Prague

How in the world did we end up ON the Old Town Square in beautiful apartments with breathtaking  views at night of the spired church lit up like a fantasy castle? The answer, again, is the travel team of Jim and Nancy. The large square , the jewel in the crown of this very pretty city, is host to thousands of people from all over the world gawking at the famous mechanical clock, snapping photos, lounging at heated outdoor cafes, traveling in tourist packs, and sampling wood roasted offerings to wash down with beer.

Our first tour was of Jewish Prague. In all of these Eastern European cities, the Jewish tours are taken by all kinds of people, not just Jews. Those sections of town are often the most interesting, and offer historical perspectives on the history and society as whole. The recommendation from many sources pointed to the tours of the company run by Sylvia Whittman, a local expert. We arrived at the meeting place and were pleasantly surprised to learn that she herself was our tour leader. She is a human dynamo, who, again, after the fall of communism, pursued her jewish roots, educating herself about her heritage.

She offered not only in depth knowledge about each of the old synagogues and graveyards, but historical perspectives, anecdotes and current considerations from all points of view.

An excellent teacher, she reminded me of a favorite Milwaukee educator, Ateret Cohen, although much younger. 

At the Old New Synagogue, Nancy was thrilled to finally see the location pictured in a photo hanging in her grandmother's house. Supposedly this is the place where the GOLEM was created. A three times great grandfather taught Hebrew there to the young boy who became the famous American reform rabbi, Issac Meyer Wise. The Pinkas Synagogue has been turned into a unusual and sacred memorial. The walls in several large rooms have the names painstakingly painted of every individual holocaust victim from the Prague area.

I found Neubauer and Taus among them. When the communists came, they whitewashed these walls, and when they left, they were repainted.

The old cemetery was vast, but in much better shape than the one we saw in Krakow, even though it was five hundred years old. Workers were busy fixing interior areas, and there was no overgrowth. Sylvia pointed out the grave of Rabbi Lev, the famous rabbi of the Golem tale. We remembered to bring a few of the stones from Jerusalem, which we left on a very old mossy marker.

We enjoyed the first tour so much, that we signed up for a second tour for the next day, this one of the main sights. Our guide, Margareta, was a  youthful 40ish woman who when pressed, described growing up under communism. Her father was an intellectual who lost his job at the university, and like many, did not fit into the new society. The living conditions were harsh.   

Partly in a van and partly walking we saw the castle areas. Standing outside the castle was a group of musicians, which we recognized from the DVD on Prague by Rick Steves.

  We also walked past some buildings in the Old Town, including the municipal library,where there is a beehive like sculpture of discarded books.

 She also took us to a location next to a newer Jewish cemetery on the outskirts where there is a monster of an ugly concrete tower built by the communists. Odd black babies also made of concrete crawl all over it. This tower was used for spying or intercepting radio.

Nancy, in her genealogy quest was put in touch with a local genealogist, Julius Muller. With some advance information trading through emails, Julius was able to have results for her. We met him one afternoon in a cafe. It was fascinating to observe him imparting details of her ancestor's lives. I typed notes on the computer, knowing she was too excited to remember details later. Julius not only found names and dates, but the addresses of the houses lived in. Then we took a long walk as he pointed out the buildings, many around the Jewish quarter, but several a good walk away.

 He explained that as restrictions were eased, Jews could move out of the confined areas. Therefore several synagogues in town are situated away from the old neighborhood. One, the Jerusalem Synagogue, near the train station, is a magnificently painted moorish style building, when lit up at night was stunning.

Julius kindly helped us locate the car rental place at the station so we would not lose time before our trip to Linda early Tuesday morning. He also walked us to a favorite restaurant, Kolkovna, where we said our goodbyes. His story is similar to the others we have heard. As an eight year old in 1968, his father, a doctor left their vacation home to report to his national guard post because of the Russian invasion. Because of his position, he was fired, and did not work for years. Then as the son of a "traitor" Julius had a difficult time entering high school, but finally found one out of town. The same obstacles prevented him from going to medical school. Through connections he found a college that accepted him for agriculture, and he eventually succeeded in becoming a researcher in molecular biology. That is, until he discovered genealogy. After investigating his Jewish roots, he became so passionite about the process, that he quit his job to start a business helping others. He is a speaker at the international conference every year.  

One evening we experienced a delightful marionette theater production of Don Giovanni. No English necessary. For some reason the audience was mostly Japanese. Inbetween the scenes a puppet maestro, disheveled  Mozart himself, came out of the pit to provide comic antics , directing music and creating mischief. The puppets were about four feet high, beautifully dressed and obviously well constructed for all the bashing about on stage. We could see the puppeteers , arms covered in velvet sleeves,masterfully manipulating multiple strings to allow their charges to fight, kiss, bathe, dance and run in all directions. A gold star for this production.

We discovered that Sylvia Whittman was a founder of a progressive synagogue one block from our apartment, so we went. We were buzzed in to an apartment/office building and found the small "progressive-Recontructionist "congregation in a basement room. The service was cantor dominated, mostly in Hebrew, but men and women sat together, which I assume defined the label of "progressive." An Israeli rabbi gave a very short sermon in Hebrew, Czech, and English. Then we were welcomed to join everyone around a large table for wine, challah and fruit. We spoke to a middle aged man who was a fairly new convert who found a welcoming community there.

Feeling energetic we decided to take a long walk across town to the New Jewish Cemetery to find Nancy's relatives.Assuming it was the small one we had seen near the tower, we headed in that direction. We got lost until opening the Google helpers to discover that the cemetery was not there at all, but luckily in the same direction a mile or so ahead. This was the most organized cemetery, being only 100 years old. The attendant was able to give Nancy a computer printout, and we found a few of the graves. One was not there, but may have fallen and been buried by the rampant growing ivy.

The churches and synagogues around the Old Town Square offer musical performances in the evenings for those tourists who are not the all night beer drinking crowd. We were fortunate to happen upon a Gershwin concert in The Spanish Synagogue. The music was delightful, but having the hour to gaze at the beautiful, ornate painted surfaces was a bonus. I especially loved the hanging chandelier of the star.

Every visitor to Prague takes a stroll over the Charles Bridge. Our outing happened on a Saturday, which meant it was extremely crowded, but colorful. Musicians and artists lined the walls,tour groups in many languages ambled, and everyone tried to get that perfect shot of their companions without too much interference. Nancy spied the booth of a jeweler where her daughter bought her some earrings a few years ago, so she purchased a pin to match. 

At the end of the bridge we spied the Franz Kafka museum.it has a most unusual courtyard. There is a modern moving sculpture of two men urinating. I won't describre he antics of the Scandinavian tourists trying to get into the act. The museum was well put together, but frankly depressing. This brilliant young man had a very unhappy childhood, and continued to lead a difficult existence. We left Nancy and Jim to wander on that side of the river, and we headed back to the Old Town to catch a museum show of Kokoshka's prints.

This city must have had some part in the inspiration for Harry Potter. The spires in the Old Town church (Hogwarts?), the narrow Golden Lane in the castle complex where alchemy was practiced (Diagon Alley?), and the wood lined pubs all brought to mind the Rowling books.

Leaving our lovely apartments very early in the morning, we passed the crystal chandelier outside public art construction we had observed being installed over the days before. An elegant coda to beautiful Prague.