We look up to the skies and see; there’s no escape from reality. We don’t need no sympathy, nobody’s gonna put a gun against our heads, make us do the Fandango! Not even Freddy . . .
Our planned three-nighter at Waldmünchen is foreshortened. It’s drizzling and 9C as Beastie heads away from one of his and our favourite spots. We agree it’s better to travel when its cold and wet.
Our three nighter at TriCamp, 10K north of Prague, provides two full days of acting like real tourists. Bus 162 and tram 17 seamlessly link. Drop us off at Charles Bridge. Like a couple of right Charlies, we’ve never heard of this 15thC icon. Seems the rest of the tourist industry has. They’ve only gone and funnelled all of their customers here. City Breaks-R-Us have not put on the brakes. It’s full to the rim. A patient Vltava below ever ready for an overflow.
The 516 metre crossing is a joy. It’s party-time. Buskers, artists and crafts people line the length. Hoping for hands to dip in. Coins or notes to dip out. Guides vainly try to keep their gaggling gaggles moving along by flying the flag.
Once across, we come across that not everybody is moving along. Two duty doers, doing nothing. Guarding nothing. Silently stand. Act accordingly. Play their two-bit parts as visitor after visitor snaps or stands alongside. “Hey, FB Buddies, look where I am today” Sunnies hide their roving eyes and thoughts.
Once tickets are bought and we pass security (yes, SMGs on show with the ‘real’ military) we make our way, but the queue doesn’t, to the main Cathedral.
Down at street level the tranquil scene above not emulated.
It doesn’t get any better inside. Just as well there’s a pretty ceiling to look at.
It’s amazing how quickly one’s geographical internal map learns its new whereabouts. Like a couple of blind automatons, we mechanically drop down into town on day two.
Today’s plan includes a looksee of the Astronomical Clock. A guaranteed midday performance.
The analogous crowd gathers. Heads tilt. Eyes fix. Waiting worshippers wonder patiently. Silent swirls of anticipation sweep overhead. Urging the curious curtain to rise. Clouds gather too. But not rainy ones.
At a stroke, arms raise in praise. Uniformly uniformed. Matching monitors monitor. Like a mid-summer Bottom of fools, all simply pleased. Obviously oblivious. “That’s all folks!”
Our visit to the main synagogue with its famous cemetery get scuppered. The site is closed. It’s a feast day (Feast of Weeks).
We spend the next couple of hours indoors. Tempted by Warhol, Dali and the unknown (to us) Mucha. A massive triple exhibition of works, spread over three floors. Curiously, all have links with Czechia.
We’ve seen his designs and replica’s of it on many a tea caddy and biscuit tin. Not many painters can claim to have been acknowledged on their country’s bank notes.
Andy Worhol’s floor is more of a tribute/memoir to his life and includes a room of family correspondence; subliminally overlayed with classic music from The Velvet Underground, managed by Warhol in the 60s. We get a better feel for this huge icon and why he became revered worldwide.
We need no introduction to Dali’s crazy mixed up surreal world. An all-time favourite in the Sheasby household. Always amazes with his artistic skill of being able to turn the world upside down in a slightly silly and comical way.
Dali, is quoted as saying . . . “Each morning, when I awake, I experience again a supreme pleasure. That of being Salvador Dali!”
Our Prague city-break ends where it started. Where to next?