Prague? Been There, Done That

“It looks like a Disneyland scene!” my mother exclaimed. Indeed, the entire, sprawling historic center of Prague is an otherworldly display of seven centuries of architecture. To walk the streets of the old center is to immerse yourself in a celebration of historic preservation, all cornices adorned with cherubic faces and ostentatious flourishes all watched from afar by a spire-laden castle that combine to create a fantastic atmosphere reminiscent more of tales of knights and maidens than a working city. Most shops in the center seem to peddle crystals and amber and marionettes and post cards and clothing proclaiming that your friend went to Prague and all you got was this lousy t-shirt. Indeed, the main attractions of Prague are choked by day with trundling tour groups following a guide holding an umbrella aloft, like an adult version of a field trip to the local science museum, except on this trip you pay a lot more and can get drunk at the end.

And get drunk people do. Disneyland for adults features an endless supply of excellent Czech beer at less than US$2 for a half liter. This punctuates romantic nighttime strolls through the city with vignettes of drunken Englishmen with their heads between their knees, Americans bellowing about how they wish it were like this in Kansas City, and Germans letting their guard down just enough to acknowledge that just maybe that eighth pint is what pushed them over the edge. It’s a collection of cheap wannabe international glitterati mixing with a Czech smorgasbord of acid-washed jeans, dyed blonde hair and leather jackets with elastic cuffs, of languid-looking women and hard-edged men who look like any false move you make and they’ll slit your throat.

The food and language do nothing to belie the edgy undercurrent of Prague. Traditional Czech restaurants serve potatoes in all their bland glory accompanied with pork knuckle, boiled beef, sauerkraut, bacon, and beer. To the uninitiated, the language seems to suffer from a substantial dearth of vowels, and when spoken it sounds like a Beatles record played backwards.

Get outside of the city center and you see the other side of Prague. You’ll find more graffiti than house paint, garbage strewn about and broken-looking locals trudging between the bus stop and their home on the seventh floor of a Soviet-inspired apartment block, their balcony decorated with wilted plants and the day’s washing, common areas below unkempt. Prague has been free for just over 20 years, and yet many places still seem irreparably steeped in the very-near tumultuous past. If ever you find yourself in Prague, you will likely find yourself at the castle amid glorious surroundings and endless throngs of camera-toting tourists. When you finish with this necessary evil, take the #22 tram southeast, from the base of the castle, through downtown and to the end of the line. I think you’ll know what I mean.

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