Prague Stories

Crickets

Skaters on Sidewalk

Somehow, I finally managed to get myself up on time this morning and was not forced to rush out the door as I usually do. I have a talent for arriving at the stop right as the tram is pulling away, and I’ve grown accustomed to the familiar sight of the metro’s shutting doors as I run up to it. It seems like so much of my time is wasted waiting for a tram or a metro.
Nevertheless, today I made it to class on time. Soon, we headed out on the day’s excursion, the studio of Professor Otto’s favorite artist. After witnessing yesterday’s psychedelic works, Otto felt inspired to take us to Czech artist Jan Husek’s art studio. Husek, an old friend of our professor, warmly welcomed us into his home and allowed us to see some of his work, which he refers to as “psychedelic surrealism.” Husek paints many of his portraits in the dark and makes some corrections by light afterwards. “To really see something, you must close your eyes,” Otto explained to us his friend’s mentality toward his paintings.
Later in the afternoon, I find myself reading a newspaper as I wait for my laundry to finish at Laundry Kings. I run across an editorial on the stalemate position the Czech government has been in ever since Communism ended. It describes how the country’s politicians are learning how to govern themselves again; while many try to move forward, some of the older generations hold faithful to their beliefs in the system. Since I was younger I have been obsessed with Che Guevara and Communism in Latin America, but here I’ve been exposed to a completely different side of it…sometimes, it just hits me: here, Communism was thrown out less than 20 years ago. That’s not a long time at all… everything we see in Prague now, everything we are used to in America, “corporatization” of society, big fashion stores, McDonalds, and cell phones…they are still pretty much “new.” The concepts of freedom and liberty, of rights…having the right to choose a religion or among a wider variety of clothes and music…it’s all still a little “new”—which might explain the many mullets we’ve seen since our arrival and the blaring off 80s music while I am shopping at many of the stores by Old Town Square. And so much was repressed during the Communist era, so much art and music… The country is picking up the strands to so much stalled. Everything that was frozen and smothered is warm and breathing again. But I can’t help to view it with a bittersweet sentiment…because while a lot of the progress is positive, to me being here is… essentially…. like being in the middle of innocence lost.

Little Boy

Rain Hitting My Window

I was always reprimanded for staring, but I couldn’t help staring at death today. Crumpled bodies, brown and small for the average human these days, lay in the glass coffins of the Klatovy Catacombs. I stared at the dried up little corpses, their skin dried-up leather, and their bones withered paper. I stared at our future and felt a bit rude but more disturbed than anything. The whole exhibit was morbid and eerie, however quite fitting for the gloomy, rainy day overhead.
Afterward, we wandered around an art gallery displaying Martin Mainer’s psychedelic works. The bright colors and intense images swirling around his paintings contrasted sharply with the cloudy sky outside and the macabre exhibit displayed in the cave we had earlier explored. Later, we sat in a small café next to the gallery and facing the town square. As we sipped on warm coffee and as I practically inhaled the delicious tiramisu dessert in front of me, the rain started to pour down harder. We walked back to the hotel to board the bus–minor gusts of wind and water droplets striking against our umbrellas. Scenic panoramas of wide fields and woods quickly passed us by on our ride to Prague. Every piece of this country is so stunning.
Tonight, I also decided to take a walk around Charles Bridge. Dim lights sparkled off the silky, dark waters. An old man warmly clutched his wife by the arm, bringing her closer to him as they casually strolled along. Twin little girls with thick jet-black hair tied back in ponytails raced toward a statue nearby. I rested my elbows against the edge of the bridge as I watched them hold hands and spin each other in circles. Tourists darted out of their way to avoid bumping into them, and they simply giggled out loud. I feel as though this mysterious and romantic city found me. As if I stumbled here by accident and yet as though everything was planned to the last intimate detail…. there’s so much that seems to lie beneath it and each place, each sight changes before me every time I gaze upon it. I can look up at a particular building, a certain window, some elegantly carved door and notice something different, feel something different about it each time.

Klatovy Square

By Charles Bridge

Hearing the Rave from the Distance

At the Rave

Think Woodstock but for Tekno lovers. And that’s tekno with a “K,” as the real partygoers spell it to demonstrate the true “Free” spirit of the music and of Czech Tek, one of the biggest open-air teknivals in the Czech Republic. Approximately 40,000 people, maybe more, are gathering from all over Europe for the weeklong celebration being held for the second consecutive year in the woods of Hradiste military fields. Think about 30 huge raves going on simultaneously. Think a bombardment of hard, jungle, industrial, drum and base, and any other kind of tekno imaginable. Think massive underground party all in the open, fresh air.
I am working on a documentary about underground Czech Tekno music, and many of the people I spoke with urged me to go to Czech Tek. Two days later, we (Brian and I) find ourselves here. It’s in an amalgamation of cars and tents and sound systems all parked and set up randomly, wherever they wish, wherever there is space. Cars weave their way through the muddy roads filled with crowds and crowds of people, many carrying backpacks and blankets. Giant black speakers, TVs and other video screens are piled up high and wide to form stages and dance areas throughout the grassy fields. People dance in front of them all day and into the night. And of course, there’s an abundance of pivo (beer) and drugs. But it’s not about the alcohol and the drugs, as all the people we met said; it’s about the music, about being surrounded by good people. Standing on one of the faraway hills overlooking the area, I try to capture with my small video camera the wide expanse of fields buzzing with so many different beats.
Later at night, some people are still arriving and a stream a headlights wraps around one of the hills. Brightly colored beams and rays flash everywhere projected from the huge video screens, strobe lights and lasers set up on speakers and in tents all over the grounds. Many of the beer and food tent-stands have their own strobe lights and illuminated displays of art, such as scraps of metal formed into robotic bodies. Thin rays of white light cut across the night sky and across hundreds of bright, white stars. It’s amazing.