Hola Praha

To be frank, geography is not my keenest skill.

When Sonya asked me how I felt about the Czech Republic, I thought it was in Africa.

Turns out, it is right up there by Austria and much cheaper to fly to.

Fine by me. Then, by some sort of providential pintervention, I discovered the most beautiful library I've ever seen and looked to see its locale: Prague, Czech Republic. Yep, yep. Definitely fine by me.

We arrived in Prague mid-Monday and were greeted by a gust of warm air and sunbeams. We very nearly lay on the sidewalk and wept.

I knew she and I would get on well when, upon walking into the city and seeing some native american dancing (because, of course), she said, "Ok. First order of business: ice cream." Praha was a little disappointing in that region, but that's the only one.

Our hostel was just on the outskirts of the old town square, where we arrived just in time to experience their Easter Market.

Trdelnik is a local favorite. It's like slow-roasted dough on a spit. Looks like a sugar-coated napkin ring. Vanilla, almond, sugar, and dough. 

That tree has sombreros, giant eggs, and streamers all up in it 

 While in the Czech republic, we had several run-ins with adorable dogs. People had dogs everywhere off their leashes. Weird breeds, too.

My favorite (not pictured) was a wee white dog that looked like the puppy version of a polar bear. Seriously, it had cub ears not dog ears. I could have snuggled it all day long.

This, of course, led to a discussion between myself and Sonya on the nature of dogs and leashes. Do we dog-leashers condition our animals to yearn for freedom and, thus, run off when unleashed? Do these unleashed foreign dogs behave because they are entrusted with their freedom?

So many questions.

The dog on the right there, Sally, we saw running around a bagel shop in Prague. Just happy as a bug running all about. Nobody minding at all.

Her owner, Lucien, we learned is actually a Seattle native who just kind of ended up in the Czech republic. He's part of a blue grass band there, and it's awesome. 

Lucien also informed us that the US imports their German Shepherd police dogs from CZ because they are some of the best dog trainers in the world.

 Betcha didn't remember that Prague is the hometown of Franz Kafka! Blanking on Kafka? It's ok. Not all of us are English majors.

Kafka. Think "The Metamorphosis." Think man gets turned into a giant bug. There you go! Now you're with me.

Fun fact: Kafka, though from Prague, was only popular after death, largely due to the fact that he wrote only in German. Not Czech. In fact, Czech was language #13 for his works to be translated into. WHAT. Crazy, I know.

Beautiful, no? No wonder Hitler wanted to make Prague his summer home following his victory in World War II. 

An example of a principle I learned from a horrid Freshman reading requirement called..oh shoot! What is it?Something to the effect of Transcendent Grace, or, to define it instead, the idea that even non-Christians and non-Christian things can teach us more about and be used for the Kingdom of God. 

Now then, that example. Hitler. 

Because he wanted to make Prague his summer home, he ensured that the entire Jewish sector of the city be left untouched. Yes, it was in the major floodzone, but not to be touched by man. He wanted it to be used later on as a commemoration over his enemies. 

Yet, because he lost the war, the Jewish section of the city is one of the only untouched areas of Judaism that remains intact to the core. 

The music hall (which I could not get a good shot of) has six statues on the roof. 

I think it was Mozart, but it could have been Beethoven--I am seriously losing credibility here--played in that hall. But the statues! 

One of the musicians up there was a Jewish man. The German dude who took over the building wouldn't stand for that, so he sent his lackies out to go shove it off the building.

However, they didn't know which one it was, so they measured the noses and wrecked the statue which had the longest. Ironically, it was the only German musician up there. Pissed the leader off in the extreme, but the Jew stayed. :) 

One of those bridges, by the way, is called "Most Legii," which looks like Most Legit. Soooo we walked across it. 

I'm rather certain that what's featured below is the senate building, with gardens named after some family whose name I didn't catch while eavesdropping on a segway tour group. 

It was also a peacock garden 

 Okay this is my favorite part of the garden. This is a faux-natural dripping rock wall. I think I like it particarly well because I didn't know it was fake until I reached the plaque at the end.

On my way down the wall, though, I had been noticing things that looked like trapped faces or trap doors or huts with feet (the picture on the left if that dang plant hadn't been there).

Then, upon reaching the plaque, I learned that that was the whole point. the wall was designed with an air of magic and mystery about it. There are all kinds of hidden little tricks in it. So whimsical. I loved it.

Then there's the astronomical clock.
Let me tell ya. They are dang proud of their astronomical clock.
At the top of every hour, two little windows open and saints go round and round peekaboo style (as in the picture), while a skeleton rings a bell (up there by the upper circle on the right). Then, for the finale, that golden rooster shakes its feathers, does a little dance, and crows.

The clock itself tells you basically everything from position of the sun, the season, the time, where on the star chart we are, and the phase of the moon. The moon part, though, is manually changed every single day, but nobody has any idea who does it. It's all very smokey and mysterious, Quasimodo like.

Oh! By the way, all the historical information I'm pulling out is from our gorgeous Australian tour guide named Ashley. He also specializes in pies.