We go past the musicians and memorial again, then to the Museum metro station. The station is covered with posters. One is in both English and Czech, asking the Czechs to help teach the English how to get rid of Thatcher: 'Our Honekker.' Liba, who must be something of a Tory, gets upset and writes 'I don't agree' on it in English and Czech. After that, we say good night and we go home for the evening.
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December 31, 1989 - Prague
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An early start. We meet Jan at the Old Town Square. As I'm waiting, no less than three people come up to me asking to change money. I'm not interested, as I have plenty, and there are risks, too. We walk toward the site of the old Stalin monument. It was removed in '62, but the stand is still there, and now there's a large liberty bell set up there for the last three weeks or so. Some kids are playing street hockey nearby. Jan says the statue was the largest Stalin statue in the world. He says climbers used to prefer certain routes up it, and there was a joke about someone who had a swimming pool made out of one of Stalin's ears after it was removed.
We walk to a large nearby sporting ground, where about 800,000 people demonstrated the previous month when Wenceslas Square got too crowded. It happens that the sporting ground is opposite the Interior Ministry. We return to the castle to walk around a bit and then get lunch.
After lunch, we go to buy some liquor for tonight at a private shop. There's a line outside. A sign says the shop will be open tonight until two in the morning. I find that refreshing. Later, in Budapest, I will find a number of 'nonstop' shops open 24 hours. I wonder why they can't do that in Switzerland, where everything closes at 6:30 on the dot. Afterwards we go to a restaurant across the street that's famed for having the best Pilsner beer in Prague. The restaurant is closed, but one taproom is reachable through a foyer in the entrance to an apartment building. There are two taprooms, only one of which is particularly noted for its beer. People are lined up, some with their own pitchers, so that they can take fresh Pilsner home for lunch. The beer is excellent, possibly the best I've ever had. We hear some customers complaining how the restaurant is closed, and that we have to stand crowded in the hallway to drink our beer. One guy turns to me and says in English, 'Stupid socialist system.' I say that maybe the restaurant will be open longer hours now or after the election. He's unconvinced. I say that at least the beer stayed good under socialism, and he (who's probably been drinking it all morning) replies that his father claims it was better before the war. Now, Czechoslovakia exports 90% of its hops (needless to say, the best ones) for foreign exchange. Only the remainder are available for Czech beer.
Jan tells us a story about an Englishman of his acquaintance living in Prague after the war. He married a Czech woman, and his father-in-law convinced him to give up his British citizenship because it could prove inconvenient to the father-in-law. He [the husband] had a language school, but the government seized it and sent him to the countryside. Only recently has he come back to teach. I forget the point, but the story of a wasted life struck me as very sad.
A few hours rest at the hotel, then back to meet Jan in the inner city. Service at the hotel is much more unfriendly than it was in East Germany. Mark thinks the hotel staff is composed of disgruntled ex-secret-police informers, but so were the East Germans, I'd guess. My guess is that they're just unhappy to work on the holidays and during the historic events.
On the way to meet Jan, we see a number of people crowded around a shop window watching a video. It's Komarek, giving an interview. The number of people interested is itself interesting.
We go to a party in the center of town. The apartment is in a nondescript building, but is fairly large inside. The hosts are student types, some of whom speak English. There are many Italians, and it seems like most of the Czechs there speak Italian.
Our host seems to echo the opinion of many Czechs when he says that it all depends on Gorbachev. He says that Gorbachev has his own problems right now, and probably wouldn't bother Eastern Europe now, even if he wanted to.
Lots of food, wine, and beer at the party - it's all excellent. I like the idea that the smokers go into a special smoking room. Jan is having a good time, but we have to go meet Liba.
We meet her and a friend by the clock tower in the Old Town Square. She's brought sparklers, sandwiches, cookies, and champagne. Bara, her friend, is a young Czech woman who has been working as a riding instructor in London. Previously she lived in Italy. (That Italian connection, again.) She doesn't seem as excited by the festivities as Liba. Currently there aren't many people in the streets (it's 10:00). We see small knots of people walking in the street, some in costumes, some playing musical instruments, some with drinks.
We walk to Wenceslas Square. There's already a small crowd there and it's getting larger. Lots of Italians. Bara says that Prague is a new Italian budget travel destination. It used to be Yugoslavia. There are crowds of people singing folk songs. Liba and Bara join in, although there are many that Bara doesn't know; she never learned them. Two people on stilts, acting out the roles of a quarrelling husband and wife, are running around. Ambulances are setting off their sirens in celebration. A police car drives slowly through the crowd, the occupants grinning broadly. There are firecrackers and fireworks. A Czechoslovak flag is flying from the spear of the Wenceslas statue. everybody is happy and smiling. A small stage with speakers is set up under the statue, and rock music is being played. Jan wants to go back to the party, but we'd rather stay outside, so we let him go. We agree to meet again on the town square just before midnight.
We walk back slowly. More people are coming into the square. By this time, the Old Town Square is filling up fast. Everyone has a bottle. Lots more fireworks. Liba says we have to light the sparklers and write our wishes for the new year in the air. We join in a dance while someone plays a folk song on a guitar and everyone sings. On the steps of the memorial statue stands a crowd of people singing more songs. There are Czech flags all over the place. Midnight comes, champagne corks pop. We hug, pass the bottle, cheer. The celebrations were unannounced and completely spontaneous, but this is an outpouring of joy that's wonderful to be a part of.
We say our farewells to Jan, who wants to return to the party. (It must have been some party.) The rest of us are going to Bara's house. Jan has been wonderful to us, and I'm sad to see him go. As we walk to the Inter-Continental to get a cab, Bara says to me that she always, particularly this year, imagines Prague nicer than it really is before she comes back. She claims that she doesn't have much love or affinity for the country. She says that the center of Prague, of course, is lovely, but the outskirts are still poor and dirty from the pollution, and the people have to line up when a shop has tomatoes or fresh salad. 'It's terrible,' she says.
We get to Bara's parents' house, where she is staying. Her mother is (was?) a director for (of?) Czech TV and quite wealthy. Her younger sister and some friends are there, watching Czech rock videos. We sit and drink wine and talk. Bara is thoroughly Europeanized, and I think you can find a lot of people like her in Europe, without any real ties to their home country, or evidence of their home country in their demeanor. She spends the evening telling us about her admiration for Dudley Moore, 'Arthur,' and its sound track, and makes me listen to it and verify that her transcriptions are correct. We play an ingenious board game, designed by a cousin of Liba's, and by then it's 5:00. We leave Bara, but not before Bara and I get into a discussion of Britain's immigration policy with regard to Hong Kong. I think Britain has acted shamefully, she takes Britain's side, and the discussion is only prevented from getting heated by the fact that we're too tired. I think it's funny how immigrants who have gotten into their new country are often more conservative about immigration policy than native-born people. I've seen the same thing in Switzerland.
As we're walking to get a cab, Liba tells us about her father, who flew in the RAF during the war, then was persecuted for it afterwards in Czechoslovakia, but I don't remember the entire story. We drop Liba off first, and we wish each other a happy new year. I'll miss her - will we ever see these people again?
That was the end of three unforgettable days. Although I couldn't understand the language, and had no connection to the history, I think I felt something of the Czechs' joy in their freedom, and will always carry the feeling with me. I wish them well.
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January 1, 1990 - Prague/Vienna
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New Year's Day. I don't know how we do it, but we're up and out of the hotel by noon, and on the road to Vienna. The road starts out flat and dusty, then gets hillier. We pass through towns, some of which are quite beautiful, others of which are poor and joyless. Among the former is the town of Moravy Budejovice, which is a pretty old town around a small square. This shouldn't be confused with more famous Ceske Budejovice, where the original Budweiser is made. Among the latter towns is the town of Znojmo, near the Austrian border: dusty, dreary, and deserted. It doesn't seem as though the Civic Forum is so strong out here; in Znojmo there's a large banner over the road urging everyone to advance the socialist program (the only such sign I've seen - soon to come down, probably), but even here we see Havel posters. It may be mainly a Prague movement, but it has feelers all over.
Cross the border - it's easy. The Czech crossing point is modern and clean, unlike the one on the East German border. It makes you wonder about the kind of face the Czechs have decided to show to their East German neighbors. We stop in a cafe on the Austrian side to get some coffee to help us wake up. It's funny that I feel at home in a German-speaking country much like Switzerland, considering all the complaining I do about the Swiss while I'm there. Everything seems cleaner. We get to Vienna - things are very familiar again. Since Mark is going back tomorrow, I make sure we go to a bunch of places I know and like. We go to a familiar restaurant [Smutny], a familiar wine cellar [Zwolfapostel Keller], and a familiar cafe [Speyrl]. I feel like I'm pissing money away - in Prague and East Berlin, I hardly spent anything. Here it feels like I'm going through a fortune. I buy newspapers right and left. I feel like I've been deprived of information and need to reimmerse myself. People selling newspapers on every street corner, it seems. I love it. I sit in Cafe Speyrl and read more newspapers there. It feels like paradise.
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| I just wandered around Vienna relaxing today. |
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