Note: This is the third of a five-part series. Part
one is Charming, Livable Amsterdam. Part two is Fascinating, Evolving Berlin.
My husband and I first visited Prague in September of 1989,
two months before Czechoslovakia’s Velvet Revolution that brought about the
collapse of its Communist government. Though we didn’t know it at the time, we
witnessed the sputtering dregs of the Communist era. Change must have been in the air, but what we
saw was a depressed, lifeless city.
Everything was grey, there was little to buy in the shops, few people on
the street. There were only a sprinkling
of cafes and restaurants, and small numbers of hushed tourists. The Czechs themselves hurried on their
business with little reason to pause or linger. Though the tremendous Gothic,
Renaissance and Baroque heritage of the city could not be disguised, it was
muted, dulled and blurred.
Color, color everywhere |
Fast forward twenty-three years, and wow. Prague is nearly unrecognizable. Color and flowers everywhere! Buildings and
statues cleaned! Cafes, restaurants and
museums tripping over themselves to appeal to tourists. More schlock to buy than
you can shake a stick at (half of it made in China.) And the entrepreneurial
spirit of the Czech people imaginatively unleashed to make as much money off
tourists as possible. Sometimes the kitsch goes a little over-the-top to realms
we would recognize in the hallowed halls of Disneyland, but since Prague has so
many centuries of being a lively, sparkling place, I would guess the present
incarnation is much closer to the city’s true personality than its dread,
Soviet-dominated years.
The Czech Bud |
The Czech language is pretty much impossible. Though I’ve never studied Dutch or German,
just looking at both languages I could often make them out if I squinted and
furrowed my brow hard enough. But
Czech? No way, no how. Accents and other
strange punctuation marks fly around this language like birds in migration; an
ungodly assortment of consonants cluster together with no vowels whatsoever. Evidently
it is similar to Slovak, Polish and Sorbian, in case you are considering the
benefits of studying Czech. Ironically, after living six years in Iowa where
there are a surprising number of people of Czech descent, some of whom were my
friends, I probably have more exposure to the Czech language than 99% of
Americans. But still in Prague Czech engendered no comprehension in my brain
whatsoever. Except—big except!--for one
word I saw in a restaurant window almost the second we got into town: Budweiser.
I recognized it instantly.
The American |
I can’t tell you how much this distressed me. Why, I thought, why, why, why, would the Czechs
import bad American beer? Why had they
brought over oceans stuff that probably no one should even cross a room with,
and then proclaim proudly that they were serving it in their restaurant windows? The answer, I soon learned, beer ignoramus
that I am, is that Czech Budweiser is the real thing, and darn good to boot—something
indeed to be proud of. The American
version is only a shameful pale cousin of the brewing tradition of Ceske
Budejovice (a town also known as “Budweis”) that has making beer since the sixteenth
century. They call their product Budweiser
Budvar. Not only is name almost the
same, their logo, as you can see, is pretty similar to the American. Any wonder I was confused?
Evidently old Eberhard Anheuser had heard (or tasted) the
product of Budweis, and he named his beer to pay homage to the old country
brew. He no doubt thought since he was
on a completely different continent, no one would really care if he
appropriated the word. Of course the
result has been a hundred years of lawsuits flying back and forth across
continents ever since. As it stands, the
Czechs can currently claim to sell Budweiser Budvar and Bud in the European
Union countries but not in the US. If
you want to try a Czech Bud in the US, look for a beer called “Czechvar” and
you will experience “The Beer of Kings” (as opposed to “The King of Beers.”)
So back to Prague, land of the double-tailed lion! (I love it when a city has a spiffy, mythical
mascot.) Quite simply Prague is a
baroque bonbon of a city. It out-baroques every place I have ever been. The movie Amadeus
was shot largely in Prague because Prague looks more like eighteenth-century
Vienna than Vienna has any hope of looking now.
For statuary alone, Prague gets the best-in-the-world prize. It’s not just the Charles Bridge that pushes Prague
towards sculpture nirvana. Although the 75 statues on this bridge are indeed
very fine, they are just a few figurine drops in the proverbial statue
bucket. There must’ve been entire
decades in Prague where simply everyone who owned or built a building said to
themselves, “Hey, I need three more statues on top of this thing!” and went out,
flagged down some stone carver, and got them made. There have got to be more statues per square
kilometer in Prague than any city in the world. In fact, I bet there are double
the number of statues per square kilometer here compared to whichever city is
number two on the statuary front. (I am
willing to bet a Bud, Czech or American, on this important matter, if indeed
someone has tabulated the vital statues per square kilometer metric.)
Adding to the statuary metric |
The Czech people are a highly resilient lot. They blossomed in the fourteenth century and
then spent most of the last six centuries being oppressed by various occupying
forces. Being occupied and controlled by
foreign powers is, in my observation, not a fun thing. Evidently the Czechs (used to be called
Bohemians) didn’t think so either. In
fact, they pretty much invented the term, “defenestration,” (which means
throwing someone or something out a window) when, over a usual Protestant-Catholic
dispute, the Bohemian Protestants threw two of their Catholic Hapsburg overlords
out a window. The pair fell three
stories and were either saved by angels or by falling into a dung heap, depending
on your point of view. Eventually the Protestant rebellion was snuffed out, its
leaders executed, and the Protestant religion outlawed in Bohemia entirely. (Defenestration, while undoubtedly
satisfying, does not always work. Let that be a lesson to us all.)
Feeling oppressed? |
The Czechs have over a thousand years of very complex
history. It largely begins with the realm of King Wenceslas of Christmas carol
fame, blossoms during the Middle ages with centuries of self-rule. Then they are conquered by the Hapsburgs and ruled by them for four centuries (the
Hapsburgs turn into the Austrian-Hungarian Empire along the way.) They get a brief two
decades of autonomy between WWI and WWII, then occupation and rule by the Nazis
swiftly followed by occupation and rule by the Soviets. And then, miraculously, independence in 1989
and self-rule ever since.
So you can see what it must mean for the Czech people to
finally be in control of their county and their destiny. Unlike the Germans, the Czechs neither mumble
about the nastiness of World War II, nor are they the least bit nostalgic about
the Communist era. In fact, they are still pretty much pissed about both the
Nazis and the Prague Spring of 1968, their attempt to shake off Soviet shackles
that was violently put to rest by a not-so-friendly invasion by their large
domineering big brother.
Historic means moolah |
In the years since achieving their autonomy, the Czechs have struggled to catch up to their wealthier western neighbors. They’ve thrown out the pretty much unworkable
Soviet model of industrialism and struggled to put together an economy that
works. Part of what works is tourism,
offering up their spectacular cities and countryside to foreign guests. It seems like everyone is hustling in Prague
to get in on the tourist money train, offering tours, services, artwork, and
handicrafts. There are all sorts of
museums, from the privately wacky to the grandly austere, tempting the
visitor with treasures of grandma’s lace collection or 15th century
art. There are dance performances, theater shows, and concerts galore. My
youngest daughter and I saw an impressive though sparsely attended modern dance
performance in an 18th century courtyard under the
stars (until we got rained on.) Our family hired a private guide to take us on
a walking tour. The cost to hire a
well-educated (university grad), knowledgeable, English-speaking guide for our
family of five was slightly less than the cost of a much more impersonal group
tour we might have taken in any other city we traveled in.
(Plus we were able to ask endless questions of what life in the Czech Republic was like for the average citizen. Much fun!)
Tourism, though undeniably lucrative, is a tricky business. In my observation, people on holiday (almost
regardless of nationality) can be unpleasant, inconsiderate, destructive and swinish.
I’m not quite sure why this is, maybe partly due to genuine ignorance of local
customs, partly due to a sense of entitlement as paying customers, partly due
to just too many people crammed into too little space for considerate human
interaction. Copious
alcohol can also play a role. The result is that tourists can be like a swarm of
insects, consuming and blighting everything in their path. Even worse, these tourists can be your former
oppressors, and if you want their money you have to smile and be accommodating.
Imagine 6 times the people |
In 2011, roughly 5 million tourists came to Prague, a city
with a population of 1.2 million. The top visiting nations were Germany
(655,000), Russia (386,000), and the UK (284,000). (The US came in at number five.) We were told that the week we were there
tourism was actually quite light for June.
Evidently on a normal June day you can barely shuffle
shoulder-to-shoulder across the Charles Bridge, it is so packed with
humanity. (We were only obliged to
dodge, dart and pause numerous times.)
The reason for the light traffic, it turns out, was due to a theme recurring throughout our trip: all the Germans were home because Germany was
still in the running in the Euro Cup. Even though
Hyundai, as in Berlin, had kindly set up an absolutely massive Euro Cup viewing
screen in the most iconic spot in the city, in this case Old Town Square,
Germans preferred to watch and celebrate this important event at home. Once the Euro Cup was over (or Germany lost a game and failed to progress), then real tourism season would hit. We could only be thankful the German team had played as well as they
had!
Nibble those toes |
Because the Czech Republic is part of the European Union but
not part of the European Monetary Union, it still has its own
currency, the koruna. This means the Czechs
can devalue their currency at will against the euro, rendering their country
extremely good value for western Europeans to visit. So the Germans and Italians, the French and
the Dutch, come in droves, often to drink excellent Czech beer for very low
prices. (Not to mention all sorts of
hard alcohol which was also inexpensive and free flowing.) They may also enjoy getting their feet
nibbled by fish at Thai massage parlors.
(I am not kidding.) It struck me as a bit like Americans going on
vacation in Mexico, except more statues and castles.
It also struck me how polite the Czechs were, how patient
with their drunken customers, how tolerant they were of completely handing over
the beautiful heart of their city for months at a time. In San Francisco, we’ve ceded Fisherman’s
Wharf but have largely managed to keep the nicest parts of the city
for our own use. (Sometimes we are quite
quiet about what the nicest parts of our city are.) So what San Franciscans
have to sacrifice on the altar of tourism is minimal compared to the Czechs. After so many centuries of domination and
oppression the Czechs are struggling economically. The Czech Republic’s
GDP/capita is below the EU’s average.
It’s below Greece’s, right around that of Trinidad and Tobago. It’s
above Russia’s, so you might wonder why so many Russian tourists? The Czech Republic is a very egalitarian country with a low Gini index of 25.8, very
close to that of Norway, Sweden, Denmark and Japan. Whatever their fortunes, good or bad, they are all pretty much in the same boat. Russia has a high Gini
index of 40.1, which puts them more in the realm of third world countries and
the US. So rich Russians can visit, and plenty of them do.
Of course, I write this having been part of the ravenous
swarm myself. We tried to be
considerate, tried not to do too much damage, or be too offensive, but no doubt
we made our share of blunders even so. One district of Prague where the tourism
did not seem overly crushing was in the old Jewish quarter, perhaps because
people were spread out between multiple synagogues, perhaps because most Prague tourists come to shop and drink rather than pay witness to what is left of a
ghetto, home to Prague’s Jewish population for almost a thousand years. Constructed in medieval and renaissance times and no doubt cramped,
unsanitary and squalid, most of the ghetto was destroyed at the turn of the 20th century
as a “modernization” effort. While originally confined entirely to the ghetto, Jews
had been allowed to live in other parts of the city since 1851, so the numbers
needing to relocate were few. At the
outbreak of WWII, 92,000 Jews lived in Prague, almost 20% of the city’s
population. At least two-thirds perished
in the Holocaust.
The layers of history |
I thought the synagogues startlingly beautiful and the
information presented in them worthwhile, but they were infinitely sad. Some are still in use for services, some have
become just silent memorials to what was. The old Jewish cemetery with its
layers upon layers of graves especially attested to centuries of striving and
surviving, often in the face of great unfairness, cruelty and violence. Though most synagogues in
former Czechoslovakia were destroyed during WWII, the ones in Prague were bizarrely spared
because the Nazis planned to turn them into an “exotic museum of an extinct
race.” In fact, the Nazis collected (i.e. looted) Jewish artifacts from all
over Europe to put on display at this future museum. But these handful of buildings and cemetery survived to tell a story quite different from the one the Nazis intended.
I am sorry to report that Prague is not a great city for
bicycling, and this goes beyond the amount of cobblestones and the rather
enormous hill up to Prague Castle. I didn’t see a lot of bikes, bike rentals, or
bike lanes, though there evidently are bike tours available in Prague (and I
now wish we’d taken one.) It is even
possible to bike from Prague to Vienna along a system of bike greenways. (Future trip!) But the touristy areas of
Prague are so crowded, walking is by far the best option. Our walking tour
guide said he rides bikes with his kids where he lives, but this is in parks
away from the old part of town.
Skoda, Skoda, Skoda |
In addition, the Czechs love their cars. Or I should say, car. The Skoda. (Of course there is more than one model.) Perhaps it comes from so many years of a
controlled economy where few could own cars, perhaps it comes from still
limited transit infrastructure (though their underground system is more
extensive than San Francisco’s) but there is a great deal of national pride around
these babies, and in any part of the city that is not pedestrian-only, the car
noise and traffic can feel intense. Car
manufacturing is also a great driver of the Czech economy. The Czechs export over 80% of the cars they
make to places like China (their leading customer), eastern and central Europe.
Awesome candidate for pedestrian zone? |
Prague does have quite a bit of pedestrian-only areas in its
historic center, and the amount is slowly expanding. Businesses
and restaurants are realizing that the pedestrian zones are where tourists feel
welcome, comfortable and want to hang out, so stores and restaurants in these zones flourish. Of course the Charles Bridge is
pedestrian-only; in fact, it’s almost incomprehensible that cars ever crossed
this fifteen-century masterpiece but they did until the mid-1960’s. The twelfth-century Old Town Square with its fabulous Astrological Clock is
car-free, and there's also the ritzy shopping street of Na Prikope that is entirely
and pleasantly pedestrian (as well as way over my budget.) In addition the
lower part of Wenceslas Square went pedestrian-only just this last spring. Long
term the vision is to make the entire (huge) Wenceslas Square a continuous pedestrian paradise. Wouldn't it be great for the lovely and
immensely old Mala Strana district to also be free from the roar of fast-moving cars? (hint, hint.)
Statuary ode to a wandering Kafka |
So summer in Prague is full of flowers and crowds and art
and drunkenness. I’m heartily glad color and gaiety have returned to
the city. However, someday I want to
visit again when things are quieter, perhaps late October. When there might still be a chance that
Mozart has just turned the corner of the 18th-century arcade
stretching ahead. When Kafka might still wander through the tight streets near
Prague Castle. When Golem might peak from behind an old Jewish cemetery headstone. When 12th-century ghosts in armor might drift
like mist across the Charles Bridge after dusk. Not a depressed and morose Prague, but a moody, artistic, intense
Prague, the Prague that I think is still there, under the artifice and revelry
designed to part the tourist from his euro, ruble, or dollar.
(Next in this series will be Enlightened, Elegant Vienna.)
Odds are that some of Mr. Anheuser's brewmasters were were from Ceske Budejovice (aka Budweis). He may have paid their fares and sponsored them as potential U.S. citizens.
ReplyDeleteP.S. The use of "Sorbian" in the article is NOT a mistake. The Sorbs of eastern Germany are distant cousins of the Serbs of Serbia (ex-Yugoslavia).
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sorbs
Thanks for your comment! (Yes, I did double-check Sorbian, not being familiar with that branch of Slavic people.)
DeleteIf Anheuser's brewmasters indeed came from the old country, I bet the Bud they produced tasted quite a bit different back in the day than now.