(A) Pre-Travel Advice
Heaven and Earth
Prague in summer is like a thousand notes spiralling melodically up towards the natural neon that shimmers light and tears over the dandelion-sown metropolitan wastelands.
That'll be one thousand gilded spires and one thousand golden dandelions.
The Wheel
beauty without vanity? wait a second,
time without the astrological clock? that's insane,
Prague without Bohemian porcelain? nefast!
black theatre without mimes? poor though,
wafers and gingerbread without coffee? not nice,
Windows, windows please
Unscathed by the atrocities of war yes, but not by those of the human mind, there are the windows that have suffered sandals, clogs, shoes and boots march past. A potpourri of windows: baroque ledges, communist panes, gothic arches, medieval sills, modern frames. They will now look at you wander by.
Feel free to clean them, close them, cover them, decorate them, dust them, open them, paint them, repair them, replace them, spy through them, throw things out of them when they no longer please you.
(B) Post-Travel Musings
Phun2
Prague, the stag party of Europe. A little consideration will afford a sensuous smile. A shared bottle of bubbly in the middle of all that merrymaking will beget expectant laughter, meaningless amidst all that smoke. A hearty meal in an ill-lit restaurant, a pounding head and a mental void, clean white stiffened hotel sheets and the flavour of the taint of foreign freedom. Fools wake up to find they forgot their hearts in their wallets, and a little secret: Prague is nothing without the make-up.
Progress
Two-wagoned red tramways zoom past laundry-ornated balconies of square greyness. They are moving fast, going far, moving away and are at the outskirts of the city already. Graffiti at the bottom rocks the rising generation, undercurrent of pseudo-punk non-conformist wannabes.
A trail of Amber oozes from the historic sandstone down and along the heel-hated cobblestones, flows in whimsical lines down the pavement and kisses the Vltava: pubs are open from 7AM.