Prague
We wound our way through narrow
motorways from the German border into the Czech Republic. Immediately, the atmosphere changed: The
feeling of comfort and relative wealth gave way to impoverished huts and young
prostitutes lining the streets. As we
neared the city, big featureless block buildings crowded near the highway. These relics from communist times emanate an
air of desolation. Where was the
fairy-tale-like Prague that I’d heard so much about? We finally caught glimpses of the “magical” old town as we
visited the town square in the evening.
The warm glow of the illuminated buildings made us momentarily
forget the stark contrast of the outskirts of the city.
By day, one could see why Prague was voted the most beautiful place
in the world by Travel magazine.
We jostled our way through the hoards of tourists eager to
experience part of the charm and magic of the old town square. It’s now one week after my travels have
finished, and I hear that there has been an explosion in the square, with
approximately thirty people injured.
How unfortunate that even in such a gorgeous city which has survived the
world wars without much damage, concerns over potential attacks are the norm of
the day.
The changing of the guards at the palace complex was not especially
spectacular when compared to that of Buckingham Palace; nonetheless, the crowd
seemed excited and spellbound.
The skies cleared up after an early-afternoon shower: perfect time
for a cruise along the Vltava (aka the Moldau).
The night before, we had heard
the Moldau theme by Smetana played at a tavern in town. The sombre music did not quite do justice to
the joyful mood everyone was in during the cruise; however, the theme did
convey the glorious grandeur of the river perfectly.
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