Saturday, May 31
It was just like old times traveling again. I was still in our routine of waking up late, and even though I was earlier than usual, getting up to write around 10:30, Samantha had already cleared out, Frankie was gone by 11, and Sofia was out shortly after 11:30. I was left to myself to find something to do, and while I initially felt nervous, lonely, and unsure of what to even go see, I soon saw the opportunity. I could walk at my own brisk pace and stop whenever to snap photos. All afternoon I followed my eye and intuition to interesting places, noting something in the distance, and walking towards it without a map to guide me.
I left around 11:50, making my way towards Frank Gehry's Dancing House, finally getting a view close up. There was an art gallery or something inside which they could charge admission for, but the real excitement of the building for me appeared to be the exterior. Originally known as Fred & Ginger, for the Astaire & Rogers tap duo, the building had two swaying forms that fit together, and while it was thoroughly modern, I loved how it melded rather than rebuked the older more traditional architecture around it.
I continued south down the river, passing a beer festival on the water, when I picked out my next landmark: a tall steeple peeking out from the trees on a hill in the distance. It wasn't until I was adjacent to the church along the river that I noticed I'd passed the stairs which led up the hill, but I decided to continue further south to the next big street a ways downstream.
I was definitively no longer in Prague's hospitable tourist center. This was a fairly rundown neighborhood mixed in with some new, seemingly luxury buildings perched on the hill. I walked another half mile or so up the winding, gradually inclined road, well past the cathedral, until I found a street which cut back in its direction. The it was another half mile back atop the plateau until I reached a park surrounding a section of the old city wall. I really didn't know what I was doing, but it seemed to work out. It was a gorgeous day, just warm enough for short sleeves, and I got some spectacular views.
As it turned out, the church was closed for a wedding, but that hardly mattered. It was more about the journey, and I was thoroughly enjoying mine. At the church I saw a map, which I used to orient me towards the main train station in Old Town, where I figured I could research my upcoming travel to Würzburg. Continuing my trend, the station was hard to reach, where I had to cross a highway or two with barely six inches of sidewalk, and I got little info outside of figuring out where the ticket booth and tracks were, but I saw some pretty building like the Nárdoní Museum along the way.
Next I fancied some food, namely pastry, as all the bread and baked goods had been superlative during my stay. I saw one bakery a few blocks from the station, but I passed by because it seemed rather generic. I'm glad I waited because the French boulangerie I found a few blocks later, Paul, was fantastic. I got a zucchini quiche, a raisin snail (escargot aux raisins,) and a slightly sweet roll embedded with chocolate chips. All were tremendous and confirmed my good success with bread in Prague.
I started to think about heading home and hitting the grocery store along the way for a more substantial lunch and breakfast for the remaining days, but I was again drawn in another direction. First it was the main synagogue in the Jewish Quarter which I saw signs for, but in my search I lost track of where the signs were pointing. Then I saw another interesting-looking building near the river, which eventually drew my attention to the sights from the bridge crossing. As I made my way to the other side, I was intrigued by a set of graffitied stairs, which in turn led to a wonderful sprawling park I had no idea existed.
I was pleasantly surprised to find a bunch of guys my age rollerblading. I often seem like the odd person in New York who still does it, and I never realized it was a fad that had passed until people gave me inquisitive looks when I wore my skates. There appeared to be a whole skating culture in Prague though, as I'd seen a few along the river before too.
This park led to the backside of the Prague Castle and its gardens, which I got to roam around a little more thoroughly this time without the rain. By the time I descended the hill, it was nearly 4PM, my feet were starting to get tired, and I decided to head back to the apartment. I got there to find Sofia just getting up from a nap, and Samantha arrived home two minutes after me having gone to many of the same places as I had. It seemed each of us had a really great day, and we decided to continue on to a late lunch together at a nearby restaurant, where we all ordered different duck dishes: pâté (Sofia), sauteed liver in sauce (me,) and a half duck roast (Samantha.) The food was delightful, and I got a pear juice to reenergize my somewhat dehydrated body, which was really fresh tasting.
As a capper on our great afternoon, we ran into Paul near the apartment, and he informed us that we'd received another tremendous review, this time from the Prague Post, who hold some real clout in the city. Everything seemed to be going our way, and we were pumped for the final performance that night. I only hoped it could match the one from the night before.
It certainly was a good one. I talked with Jake after the show, and we agreed it was perhaps lacking slightly in the energy of the previous night but with more polish. Also, in the audience were the British Ambassador to the Czech Republic (whom Jake had met with prior to our run,) Steve Gove (director of the festival, back to see our show a second time,) a representative of the Edinburgh Festival Fringe (which is the original and probably most prominent fringe arts festival, and one we'd very much like to participate in,) and a nearly sold out audience yet again. As our crowds got bigger at the end, it got easier to perform for them. You can feel their energy and respond with your own.
We went to dinner with Jake's family while Paul was interviewed by someone who apparently only gives out reviews to people and shows he likes enough to give a good review. He met with Paul for two hours, apparently talking about a wide range of things, including the evolution of the show, politics, and poetry. Apparently he liked our show even more than some of the other hailed productions we'd enjoyed at the festival. It seemed we were primed for another good respected word.
After dinner, we went to the Fringe bar one last time for the "Fringey" awards, a playful round of joke recognitions for people who stayed at the bar a lot, or were noted for their presence in other silly ways. Sofia was nominated for "best dancer" but didn't win. We figured that would give the award more gravitas, and it instead went to the bartender for running around and serving drinks all week, which maintained the levity of the affair. We were also collectively nominated for "best selfie" with our cast shot before the first performance (below.) We hung out at the bar a while after the awards, schmoozing a bit with the festival organizers and other artists, not getting back to the apartment till at least 4:30AM, and riding our high of enthusiasm.
St. Nicholas Church
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