Praha is a city of quiet buildings. Everywhere is a statue, sculpted figure of some sort–saints on bridges, angels over church doors, a wizard with wolves guarding the front of a municipal building, even dragons curled around the park benches. All of these, in their stone or metal stillness, and in the fairy tale wonder of it all, seem to be watching the constant flow of the tourists, as much as the tourists are snapping pictures of them.
I grew up both near Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin,* and then near Orlando, Florida, so I am somewhat desensitized to throngs of tourists. I don’t want to hang out with them for a long time, and after a while transcending them is a feat, but put a margarita in my hand, give me a table with a view, and this slice of humanity can be quite entertaining. Seeing the tour guides shepherding their groups with raised umbrellas of varying colors was, well, both horrible and funny. Horrible because the people looked hot and exhausted (especially the women who chose fashion over comfort for shoes), and funny because well, c’mon, you’re basically in a parade, trying to listen to snippets of huge history, while simultaneously trying not to run into the person in front of you, schmooshing them with your drippy gelato. It’s just a human phenomena I suppose, to tour like this. I’ve done it in the Dells and at Mickey’s Kingdom. Guilty as charged, yes, as a youth, I’ve ridden the “ducks,” sampled the fudge, and taken Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.
Now that I’m older, however, I need things slower, and this includes how I experience a city and its history. I need to look longer. From our Air B&B window in Mala Strana, we gazed; we had to, because it would have seemed irreverent not to pay homage to the vast styles of architecture, right outside the window–Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, Art Noveau–just to name a few. In the distance, we could see a tram car climbing an impossibly steep hill through a medieval orchard, leading to monastery and convent. All the while the half moon shone perfectly misty above. Romantic, yes indeed.
When we walked in Prague, we did not rush, we meandered. We wandered the side streets, away from the masses, and we experienced a tranquility among the stunning architecture that was quite humbling and beautiful. Simply knowing that the buildings were thousands of years old, that they had survived wars, was enough to create pause. But the beauty, the knowledge that architects of these various times made choices in the name of not only longevity, but also sheer aesthetic pleasure was enough to make me sigh and smile.
In art school, we were instructed to ask questions like: What is beauty? If beauty can be defined, should art be beautiful? My answer now is the same as it was then, an even more resounding, yes! No, not everyone sees the same things as beautiful, of course not. And maybe the average person riding the tram to work in Prague becomes immune to the gorgeous views surrounding them. Maybe. But this slow tourist wishes to thank the makers. Praha, you are lovely.
*Wisconsin Dells is a tiny town in the south /central part of the state, which grows three times its size in the summer due to, among other things, curiosity about the indigenous culture, the beauty of Cambrian sandstone, and an unusual attraction to homespun fudge.
