Prague (part rain)
Brimming to capacity with the experiences of Vienna, we boarded our train to Prague. I thought this would be a great time to reflect upon what we had seen and mentally sort and file these experiences away for future reference. Early 20th century Vienna had such energy and progressive thinking about creativity. I needed to do some analyzing myself. I do love Klimt’s use of gold leaf and bold flat pattern and the hauntingly tormented portraits of Egon Schiele. How does all of this fit in my compendium of creative thought. Or does it? If I did embrace it and attempt to incorporate it, wouldn’t I simply be an historical dilettante? Wasn’t that just what these artists were railing against?
With a 3 hour journey ahead of us, it seemed contemplation on such heady matters was assured. I could immerse myself into the experience of travel abroad; of seeing locals tending their garden plots along the tracks; of factory workers at cigarette breaks, my own foreign film of sorts without the subtitles.
My romantic musings were shattered before the opening credits even had finished. I understood the words. They were in English, not charmingly accented English, but American English. And they got louder and louder. They seemed to be coming from both ends of the train car; stereo! Before I knew it, we were beset upon by a noisy crowd of tourists.
Three couples with unwieldy suitcases struggled down the aisle. This was the cause for much consternation and yelling among them. The suitcases were so large, it was only with great difficulty, grunting, and my help that they were heaved onto and then stuffed into the overhead luggage rack. Then there were 2 women who decided to play the world’s noisiest game of gin rummy. In an attempt to quietly see the world through a different point of view, we were foiled by hearing all about it by loud, overly-packed American tourists.
We promptly sought escape and headed to the dining car. We were greeted by Pavel and a kindly smile. What we found there was peace and quiet - a piece of cheese toast and coffee.
Czeching out the dining car
Our cheese toast respite
We had been racing the weather. But it was beginning to catch up. As the train pulled into Prague, the skies turned as grey as its Soviet-era train station.
Welcome to Prague
Map in hand, we began the journey to our hotel. Remember this was the first day and you know what usually happens — directional confusion! So off we go to the information kiosk. After much nodding and theatrical pointing, we found our way to the tram stop.
One tram, two trams, there’s our tram — fingers crossed! We scrambled on board just as a torrential cloudburst burst, nervously chuckling like condemned men who had just dodged a bullet.
Acting as GPS, I turned our damp map with each curve in the road. Dutifully I watched for street signs and landmarks. This got progressively more difficult as the windows steamed with moisture. Like an intermittent wiper, I would stroke the window clear and check our position. The final curve; we were crossing the river. Our hotel is across the river. At that point we knew we were on the right tram. The next stop was ours.
Splashing down onto the cobbled sidewalk, I couldn’t help but think of myself as a latter day Gene Kelly. We set off in the rain in search of Hotel Josef, our small luggage train in tow keeping a merry syncopated beat - climp, clomp, splot.
A right turn instead of left (remember this is still the first day!) we circled back around and spotted our hotel through the downpour. We arrived soaked, but with a smile; a broad smile. It was bright, crisply designed and sparkled defiantly against the weather.
Hotel Josef
Designed by Eva Jiricna, it combined two houses, one pink and one orange. This set forth the coded accent colors that followed. An immaculate glass tread circular staircase was the focal point of the lobby. A smart, minimal bar lined one wall. A slim young man was polishing cocktail glasses. He was effortlessly gaunt, an achievement seen only among young Europeans.
After checking in, we made our way to our room. This was perhaps the sexiest hotel room I had ever seen. Everything was chrome and glass, except the bed throw and chair. They were orange. Remember the aforementioned color code.
The desk, the closet, the bathroom counter, the bathroom sink-the whole bathroom was glass. For sheer modesty the shower and WC were frosted. What wasn’t glass was mirror, all polished and shiny. But what made it even more impressive, was that it was streak free. I was awed by the attention housekeeping staff had given these high maintenance surfaces.
No stone throwing in here!
The shower and wc — sparkling examples of cleanliness
Enough with the room, cocktails were required. It must be 5 o’clock somewhere! A quick toweling and we were set. We arrived back down in the lobby and took our place in a pair of trim white leather club chairs opposite the large plate glass windows. Hair damp, but artfully tousled, dry martinis were ordered.
As guests exited the hotel, their umbrellas would pop open like giant mechanical flowers bursting into bloom, ready to join the moving bouquet in the street. I sat mesmerized watching the unfolding scene. Pedestrians hopped and skipped over the cobbles. Some used their umbrellas for balance like an aerialist. Occasionally, they stole a glance in our direction. Others simply stared.
Who was watching whom? Had the predator now become the prey? — or perhaps, the conceptual art installation in the window? If so, I had the perfect title for us.
Dry: Americans and their Martinis.
Thursday, June 19th, 2008 at 9:41 amand is filed under travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.