Spring Park

I spent my last day in Prague with Giovanni, a young Italian guy spending a year here completing a preceptorship at a local 5 star hotel. He asked me to meet him outside the Malostranska metro station on the castle side of the river. The perfect chance, I reasoned, to give the underground in Prague a test run. Two blocks north of my hotel is the red line, and another block north is the green line entrance. Malostranska sits near the end of the green line, so I gathered my camera, map, money, and chapstick, then exited toward the Museum at Wenceslas Square. From there, I descended into the earth, uncertain about the result of my trip. Inside the metro station, I located the ticket machine. Too many options on the automated machine confused me, so I simply purchased the most expensive one, feeling that would be the safest bet. I gathered the change and ticket from the drawer at the bottom of the machine and looked for my next move. The escalators took me deeper into the earth, finally stopping at a platform that opened up to an east and west side. I was heading West, toward the river and castle, so I joined the queue and waited. Within seconds, the train arrived. It delivered me to Malostranska station about 4 minutes later. I made it safely, with time to spare before we were to meet.

Outside the station, the one closest to the castle and the cathederal (at the base of the hill), I took a place on the large, black granite steps and waited for Giovanni. Countless tourists passed by, speaking languages from English to Korean to Russian. I watched them all, each group more different and uniquely interesting. The sun had decided to make an appearance in spite of the rain called for in the weather forecast, making the black t-shirt I had selected seem a bit stupid at the moment. About five minutes late, Giovanni appeared, a small backpack hanging from his back. We did the traditional European, kiss, kiss, hello, then he lead me to the tram that would take us up to the castle (where was he to give me this tip the first day when I walked all the way to the top on my blistered feet?). Apparently, just like in Budapest, a pass purchased for the metro works on the trams as well. We arrived at the back side of the castle and catherderal. Luckily, he had never been inside the church either, so we decided to brave what he thought would be a terribly long line. Turns out, the line to get into the church was short; and the entrance free. Bonus. The cathederal's inner chambers glowed from the sun pouring through the enormous stained glass windows. The catholic church spared no expense on this place. True to form, every possible gaudy accent was added - gold, silver, colorful paints, terrazzo tiles, mosaics, and more - yet somehow it all worked against the mostly gray granite stone walls. We spent twenty minutes looking at the church, then headed outside, the weight of the place upon us.

As we exited the church, we heard music to the left of us, signalling the changing of the castle guards. When we got close enough to see the action, we noticed that the commotion was actually just a bunch of palace guards on motorcycles doing a synchronized performance to the band playing outside the castle. I pulled out my camera to film this exercise - quite impressive - for anyone who would watch. This too grew tiresome after what seemed like twenty minutes of motorcycle circles, crossed paths, and follow the leader. We exited for a beer at an outside cafe his friend had told him about just past the castle up the hill a little.