My weekend was very quiet--I did indeed park it in a cafe. Friday night, Lucie invited me to Týnská literary cafe, on the tiny street that twists around the church of the same name. Another local secret, because the cave-like place is wonderfully cheap. And smoky, as it is everywhere. Saturday night I had gone looking for Bar & Books (pictured above), which ended up being directly opposite the cafe (doh). It was more like the Hideout, my favorite bar in the world. I.E. the low lighting not actually good for reading, and the atmosphere one I'd rather share with a friend on a splurge (a lychee champagne is $9!). So as I was admiring the contrast of the swank B & B with the cafe- two wooden doors with the name written in black script on the wall above it- across the way, I ran right into Sylvie, who I'd met last week. So back into the cafe we went! We talked about men and traded regional terms of endearment. She told me a great one that wasn't in my phrasebook: broučku- "little sweet beetle."
The phrasebook includes zlatíčko (my gold), and miláčku (darling). I've noticed that in translation of the American films, miláčku is used for almost every endearment- dear, sweetheart, darling. Also I think it might actually mean "little darling," because I've learned that you can make something like ulice (street) become ulička (little street) by changing the spelling, which changes the sound from "ts" to "ch." Kava (coffee) becomes kafíčko (nice, little cup of coffee). Cute!
Both nights I walked home around midnight across the Charles Bridge, which was filled with lovers taking pictures, gazing at things or each other, kissing. There are people kissing all over this city. There are also dachshunds everywhere, which I love. My childhood pet was a black dachshund named Libby (RIP). She was the best ever. Another thing about the bridge is that I haven't noticed many panhandlers in Prague, but there are usually some at night there, and they're prostrate. It's spooky. Their foreheads touch the ground with their hands or hat open near their heads, and they usually don't say a word. I also haven't noticed any depressed areas like Seattle's 3rd & Pike bus stop, that smell of piss and drugs, but then I haven't been everywhere in Prague yet.
Sat. I had also gone to Vinohrady for the first time, to meet a fellow XLR8R writer (there are 3 of us here!)at a great cafe, Meduza. The neighborhood reminded me of Brooklyn a little, with its Brownstone-sized apartment buildings, young people with strollers, and dogs. It was leafy and green too.
Sunday, Lucie had an extra ticket to see a ballet called "Čachtická pani," which is a legend based on the Slovak Countess Elizabeth Bathory, "known as the most infamous serial killer in Central European history and is remembered as the "Blood Countess" and as Bloody Lady of Čachtice, after the castle near Trenčín, in Royal Hungary, present-day Slovakia, where she spent most of her life." So that was some ballet- gore, rape, strobe-light-aided slow motion sequences, a pas de deux with a riding crop- we left at intermission and went back to Týnská for hot wine.
However...it was held at the Estates Theater, so I got to see the inside of this marvelous building, which I hope to go back to at least once more. Here's an interesting article on its history. It's famous for being the site where Mozart conducted his Don Giovanni opera for the first time in 1787! We sat in our own little booth on the first tier...it was truly spectacular. I felt like a princess. There were people of all ages there, in various states of dress, much like in Seattle. Some super casual, and others glam. I went half-and-half by wearing my simple black skirt and sweater, but putting my hair up and wearing a pair of Oma's earrings. Here's the theater:
Final bit of ephemera for now...Czech names- there's one for each day, and you can celebrate both your birthday and your 'name day.'
"During the Communist era, parents needed special permission form to give a child a name that does not have a name day on the Czech calendar. Since 1989, parents have had the right to name their children as they wish, provided it is used somewhere in the world and is not insulting or demeaning. However, the common practice is that the most birth-record offices look for the name in the book "Jak se bude vaše dítě jmenovat?" (How is your child going to be called?), ISBN 80-200-1349-0, the semi-official list of "allowed" names. If the name is not found there, offices are extremely unwilling to register the child's name.[1]"
And then you have Venezuela. The U.S. seems to be moderate...I knew a Porsche in high school, but also many Jennifers. :)
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