Precerpt from In with the East WInd: A Mary Poppins Kind of Life - Czechoslovakia: First Trip - Making the Acquaintance of Praha with Svata
Making the Acquaintance of Praha with Svata
Although I was staying at the hotel, I spent a lot of my free
time with Svata, the sister of one of the instructors who worked for me back in
California. “She speaks near-native Russian,” the instructor assured about her
sister. That gave me the encouragement needed to make the phone call once I was
in Prague. My Russian is near-native, and my Czech was just emerging. Clearly,
then we would be able to communicate.
We were indeed able to communicate—in Czech, which I was
learning quite rapidly on this trip, thanks to the State Publishing House
experience, swapping hotel rooms daily with the help of the maids, and Ja’s
pulling me into the wild life of the literati and their highly erudite language.
As it turned out, Svata did not speak Russian at all except for a few broken phrases
that were similar to Czech. The phone call turned immediately into Czech, and,
since the contact had been made, I felt compelled to follow through (and was
glad I did). I powered through the phone call with Czech that Svata managed to
understand or guess accurately, and we agreed to meet. In fact, we met several
times.
We walked all over the city, with Svata giving me history
lessons and cultural lessons and, of course, sharing her thoughts on current
politics. That time in Prague bubbled with change, excitement, freedom, new
ideas, and fervency.
As for the city itself, Prague in the early 1990s carried a
kind of fragile magic — a city awakening after decades of constraint. The air
still held the faint scent of coal smoke and bureaucracy, the gray Soviet
veneer clinging to facades and habits. Yet beneath it, something luminous
stirred. Cafés reopened with laughter that felt newly permitted, and the
streets hummed with cautious optimism. You could sense people testing freedom
like a muscle long unused — tentative, proud, a little uncertain.
The architecture told its own story. Buildings still wore
their age openly, patched and peeling, but they stood with dignity. Karlův
most, the Charles Bridge, stretched across the Vltava like a memory that
refused to fade — saints and kings watching over a city rediscovering its soul.
The river itself seemed to carry history forward, reflecting both the old stone
and the new light. Even the trams rattled with a kind of endurance, their
rhythm echoing the persistence of Prague’s heart.
What made Prague beautiful then wasn’t polish or prosperity;
it was continuity. The Gothic towers, Baroque domes, and cobbled lanes
whispered that history had survived every occupation, every ideology. The city
was still being built old — restoring rather than replacing — and that gave it
a rare kind of honesty. Beneath the scaffolding and the slogans, Prague was
reclaiming its identity, quietly proving that freedom doesn’t erase the past;
it lets it breathe again.
The first place Svata took me was Vyšehrad, an ancient
fortress on the Vltava River. Perched on a rocky promontory overlooking the river,
Vyšehrad is one of Prague’s most evocative historic sites, a place where
legend, architecture, and Czech national identity come together. According to
Czech legend, this ancient fortress was the seat of the earliest Czech rulers,
associated especially with the mythical Princess Libuše, who is said to have
prophesied the founding and future greatness of Prague. Although its precise
origins belong partly to legend, Vyšehrad developed into an important royal
stronghold during the Middle Ages. Its massive stone walls, historic gates, and
commanding views offered a striking reminder of the strategic importance of
this elevated site above the river and its size nearly wore out my travel-weary
legs.
We were met with a quiet peacefulness there—a few tourists,
but plenty of space for meandering. We visited the magnificent Basilica of
Saints Peter and Paul and the adjacent Vyšehrad Cemetery, which contained the
gravesites of many celebrated Czech writers, composers, artists, and other
national figures, including the composer Antonín Dvořák. Walking along the old
ramparts, past ancient stonework and quiet gardens, we enjoyed sweeping views
of Prague’s rooftops and the winding Vltava below. Vyšehrad is more than a
historic fortress: it is a place where Czech mythology, cultural memory, and
the enduring beauty of Prague meet—and the details of which attach themselves
to memory cells; even my super-over-filled memory sees and feels the intense
experience of Vyšehrad still today, 30 years later.
Exhausted after that excursion, Svata invited me to her
house for tea. While we were waiting for the tea to be ready, she put on a
record that she had recently purchased and clearly enjoyed. I don’t remember
who the comedian was, but the jokes all centered on contemporary politics.
Thank goodness for the small interfaces I had had with the campaign of Havel,
the instructors back home who could refrain from engaging in political discussions
and taking sides (mostly Havel’s; I have to admit I, too, admired him greatly—for
his politics, his life with years in prison, and his incredible writing, for
which he won at least six awards, in spite of his books being banned during the
Soviet years).
Now, any language student will tell you that jokes are the
hardest part of language to understand. Sometimes, there is specialized vocabulary.
Always there is a need to know the content behind the joke: culture, history, the
contemporary social scene. Most difficult is acquiring the sense of humor. Humor
differences immensely among cultures; it is one of the most difficult things to
translate and have it “land” right. S
So, Svata would giggle and sometimes belly laugh. I felt as
if I were chasing a running horse—and sometimes catching it. Svata wanted me to
understand everything, though. She wanted me to laugh and enjoy the jokes.
First, though, I had to hear them. Rapid language escaped comprehension for
those who are not highly proficient in the language. She would play the same joke
again and again and again and again, for however long it took for me to
understand. She measured my understanding by the naturalness of my laughter.
Sometimes, she did have to explain the humor to me, and then she would play the
joke again. My improved proficiency, noted by the instructors upon my return
was due in no small part to Svata’s “tours” and especially her political humor
records.
Among the other places that Svata took me, Karlův most (Charles
Bridge) was my favorite. Arguably, Prague’s most recognizable landmark, the
bridge has survived since medieval Europe and for generations has served not
merely as a crossing but as a stage for Prague’s daily life, artistic
expression, legends, and historical drama.
Spanning the Vltava River, it connects the Old Town with
Malá Strana, the Lesser Town, providing a pedestrian passage through centuries
of Czech history. Construction began in 1357 under the patronage of King
Charles IV, replacing the earlier Judith Bridge, which had been destroyed by
flooding. Built of stone and supported by sixteen arches, the bridge was
completed in the early 15th century. Its imposing Gothic towers frame a
remarkable open-air gallery of thirty statues and sculptural groups, most added
between the 17th and 19th centuries.
Among them, the statue of St. John of Nepomuk is
particularly famous. The bronze relief plaques on the pedestal of the statue of
St. John of Nepomuk (Svatý Jan Nepomucký) are part of the larger sculptural
monument and have been polished bright by countless visitors rubbing them over
the years. The best-known tradition is that touching or rubbing the plaque
depicting the saint being thrown into the Vltava will ensure that you return to
Prague someday. The neighboring plaque depicts a knight, a woman, and a dog;
visitors often rub the dog, too, in hopes of good luck. I rubbed the nose of
the dog.
Charles Bridge also belongs to the cultural landscape that
has made Czech history so compelling to audiences beyond the country’s borders.
Those who remember the popular television series Circus Humberto (Cirkus
Humberto) may recall its sweeping portrayal of generations of circus
performers, their ambitions, loves, rivalries, and struggles. First broadcast
in 1988–1989, the 12-part Czechoslovak-German production was adapted from
Eduard Bass’s celebrated novel and followed a circus family across much of the
nineteenth century and into the early twentieth. Although the series tells a
different story from that of Charles Bridge, both evoke a Prague and a Bohemia
shaped by centuries of tradition, artistic achievement, and changing political
fortunes. Together, they offer a glimpse into the rich cultural world behind
the city’s celebrated architecture.
When I returned to California, I think I was in better
physical shape, thanks to Svata and all that walking. My tongue was, for sure,
in more fluent shape. More than just accomplishing my intended “mission” (job)
while there, I had been able to learn much about the culture, history, society,
and people that made every minute of that first trip worthwhile—and memorable.
Volume 1: ABC Lands
by Dr. Betty Lou Leaver
For more posts about and from this book, click HERE.
For more posts by and about Betty Lou Leaver, click HERE.
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