I arrive at the main station in Prague at 9.30AM, after an 11 hour night train journey from Cologne, to be met by a little slip of a girl (Jitka) from the language school, who can just about manage my tote bag of bits and pieces, while I lug the backpack and suitcase through two metro journeys, one bus ride, and a 5 minute uphill walk from the bus stop to ‘the TEFL house’. At least my room is on the ground floor.
The accommodation is a large but not exceptional residential house built on the hill. The front door is lower than the road, so although my room is on the right of the door, the view through the window is of people’s feet on the pavement. As well as two floors above mine, there are steps down to a basement which holds another bedroom and a large kitchen-dining room with patio doors at the back opening out onto an unkempt garden and paved area with barbecues.
So far I’ve met four of my fellow-trainees, all American, all quite a lot younger than me, one couple and two other young men. There are four or five more to come.
After I’ve showered and changed, I go out walking. There doesn’t seem to be much to see around the house, so I take the bus down to the shopping mall near the Metro station and set off exploring from there. The sun’s bright, but with a surprisingly chilly wind, and I don’t trust the sky. I start by getting lost – I make it a policy to get lost on my first day in a new place, so I can get my bearings. But I have a travel pass for public transport, a map, and details of the buses
I stop in a quiet square and sit on a bench with the intention of checking the map, but at that moment the sun comes out, so I sit and let it warm my face, watching the trams, the people, and the birds, and thinking what a joy it is to be in a place where it’s normal for people to sit out in public reading books rather than glaring at their phones.
The weather gets hotter, or at least relatively so by comparison with Cologne, Brussels (where I was on Tuesday) and home. I haven’t a clue where I’m walking, but in a city of hills with a river passing through the middle it’s not hard to work out that going downhill should eventually take you towards the main artery. I soon find myself leaning on a concrete wall over-looking the River Vltava, watching the constant traffic of boats, counting bridges, and trying to work out which way is most likely to lead towards the Old Town – or more importantly, a cafe. With the twin towers of the cathedral at the top of the bank opposite, instinct tells me to head left, past the first bridge (a concrete construction covered with traffic) and beyond that to the statue-and-tourist encrusted Charles Bridge. I find a place to sit on the river bank with an iced coffee and marvel at the fact that I’m here, and who knows when I’ll be leaving?
In the shopping mall near the Metro station there’s a large Tesco where I shop for essentials, and then catch the bus back to the house. I’ve unpacked and distributed stuff round my little room – I’ll be staying here for a whole month, after all.
Friday 17 May 2013 To the Castle – (or not)
I’m breakfasting in the communal basement kitchen on grapefruit juice, yogurt, bread and jam and black tea (no milk – I forgot to buy any). Jacob, one of the American boys, has just come in through the patio doors from eating his breakfast outside to announce that ‘it’s hot’. Already.
Jitka said it’s possible to walk to the Castle, so that’s my mission for today. I struggle a bit with the incline, but console myself that at least it will be downhill on the way back. I seem to be just trudging through more residential areas, all houses and a noticeable dearth of tempting cafes and worse still, tram routes. I tell myself the views will be amazing when I get there (wherever ‘there’ is), but right now I can’t see past the houses.
I come to a crumbling closed down sports stadium, and a path in front of a wooded area behind a chain-link fence. There’s a way in between the trees, to a park with paths, streams, a fish pond with a fountain in the shape of a seal, and views over rooftops and distant river-bridges. It has to be Petrin Park, where I walked on a Sunday in June last year.
Sitting on a bench, on the top of the park, on top of the world. Below me, white walls, red roofs, copper-green domes and spires, bells ringing, trees and trees and trees, in light, dark, bursting, glorious leaf. Is there any other city which is built inside a forest, as this one seems to be? I wonder what it’s like in autumn? I’ll find out. I can see the castle at last, although I can’t work out how to get there. That’s for another day.
Further along, I find the rose garden, where the buds are just starting to open, and feel the excitement bubble up as I realise that I am here and can come as many times as I want over the summer to see these beautiful places. There’s no rush.
I head downhill to the river, cross the bridge and turn right. There are steps leading down to the lower embankment, where there’s an outdoor cafe, wooden tables by the river, a bar and barbecue and a sign saying: ‘Live music every day 15.00 – 22.00’. I settle myself on a bench right by the water’s edge. There is a middle-aged white guy with grey dreadlocks trailing down his back, playing the guitar and singing ‘Black Magic Woman’. A waiter comes over and I order a hot dog from the barbecue and a pint of Staropramen. The wind whips up a spray from the river, but the sun is warm as I sip my beer and watch the swallows dipping to catch insects from the surface. A swan lumbers up into the air with a mighty flapping of wings, then flops down again a few metres upriver. I watch a tourist boat passing, and trams crossing the bridge, smiling to myself every time the guitarist starts another song that comes back to me from the past, and I silently mouth the words to myself and love the fate that has brought me here.
In the evening – after another trip to Tesco on my way back – I spend some time chatting online to my daughter, and then typing up some notes about my impressions so far. About an hour ago I realised I hadn’t had any dinner, so went to the kitchen and got myself a cheese sandwich and a glass of Moravian red. The Czechs are really better known for their beer, but I’m determined to give it a chance.
Linda Rushby, The Long Way Back (WIP)