Monday, October 17. Our flight path (starting on the evening of Sunday the 16th) was Austin to Chicago, Chicago to London/Heathrow, then Heathrow to Prague . . . and the Heathrow to Prague leg was by far the most entertaining. Even before takeoff, I began referring to it as the "soccer hooligan" flight -- since easily 70% of the passengers were stubble-headed twenty-something British males on their way to Prague for a few days of cheap beer and carousing. If you've seen the movie EuroTrip and remember the Manchester United fans -- well, these were those guys. They were boisterous and foul-mouthed, but they were good lads. You can't help liking a planeload of dudes who erupt in a spontaneous cheer when the "Fasten Seat Belt" light goes off.

   We arrived at Prague's Ruzyne Airport about 7:00 PM, which was an hour later than scheduled. Passport Control was so crowded that I was sure we'd be there for at least another hour, but I was wrong. Everything moved along with remarkable efficiency, and in just a few minutes we were out in the lobby snagging a few thousand Czech koruny from the ATM and scanning the many hand-held signs for our name. There was such a large crowd milling about, and so many taxi drivers holding signs, that it took us a while to find our fellow. But once we did, we were out of there and on the road.

   Our driver was a young Czech gentleman named Peter (or perhaps it's spelled Petr) who spoke excellent English (which meant that we didn't have to try out our terrible Czech just yet). Peter drove a new Skoda, so I commented that this was the first time I'd ever ridden in one -- and that it seemed like quite a nice car. Peter explained that Skodas are nice now, having finally evolved into reliable automobiles as a result of being equipped with Volkswagen engines. But the first car he had ever owned had been an old non-Volkswagen-equipped Skoda, and it had not been a good experience. He was still disgusted.

   Later in the conversation, Peter confirmed something that we had first read in a guidebook by the American travel writer Rick Steves: Many young Czechs are interested in Asian cultures, and when they travel abroad they often choose an Asian destination. Peter and his girlfriend had already visited China, and they had also booked a trip to Vietnam on the Russian airline Aeroflot . . . until Aeroflot called to say that all of their flights to Vietnam were cancelled because the planes had to be grounded. Peter had been disappointed, but he told us that he'd rather have his trip cancelled than fall out of the sky in the winged equivalent of a Soviet-era Skoda.

   Since Barb and I had arrived after nightfall, we weren't able to see much of Prague on the way in from the airport. But after Peter dropped us off at our building at Nerudova 4 in Mala Strana (the Little Quarter, Little Town, or Small Side), and after we were let into our apartment by a nice young American lady named Courtney, Barb and I decided to take a walk. The night was cool and still, and the sky was almost clear. It was perfect weather for an introductory hike around the neighborhood.

   So we headed up the long, steep slope of Nerudova Ulice (Nerudova Street, or Neruda Alley, named after the Czech writer Jan Neruda) took pictures of the Romanian and Italian embassies, passed below Prague Castle, and continued up Uvoz to Strahov Monastery. Then we returned via Loretanska, walking through Hradcany (the Castle District) past Cernin Palace, the Loreto, and Hradcanske Namesti (Castle Square). We looked over the city from the wall at the top of Ke Hradu, then went down the Zamecke Schody (Castle Steps) to Thunovska, turning right on Zamecka and trotting down a short, sharp hill back to Nerudova. Zamecka intersects Nerudova at the corner occupied by Nerudova 2, so our building was right next door.

   I think it was when we paused just below the monastery . . . when I looked across the park and up at the glowing Petrin Tower, then back down the hill at the jumbled lights of Mala Strana and beyond to the Vltava River and Old Town . . . that I felt in my bones that we weren't in Kansas anymore. Or even Texas. We were somewhere quite different.

   Funny, though. It still felt like home.

   Some of the things I learned on October 17: Barb is the best travel companion ever, even on fifteen-hour flights.//Soccer hooligans are just like anyone else, only louder.//Skodas are much improved now that the factory isn't run by a totalitarian regime.//And the Mala Strana quarter of Prague is beautiful at night.

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   Tuesday, October 18. Our first morning in Prague dawned overcast and cool. A little before 9:00 AM, Barb and I walked down through Malostranske Namesti (Little Quarter Square) and Mostecka (Bridge Street) to Karluv Most -- the Charles Bridge. Built in the 14th century, the Charles Bridge is the longest and widest pedestrian bridge in Europe, and it's also the single most popular tourist draw in Prague. But on this cool Tuesday morning, Barb and I had the bridge almost to ourselves. The souvenir stands hadn't been set up yet, and there were no buskers playing blues or Dixieland. Only a handful of tourists and a few actual Praguers on their way to work were with us on the bridge that morning . . . and we wouldn't see it that way again. For a little while, though, it was just us, a few other quiet souls, and the silent statues of saints standing on Charles the Fourth's 650-year-old engineering masterpiece over the Vltava.

   We crossed into Stare Mesto (Old Town) and walked up the cobblestones of Karlova to Old Town Square. Fortunately, we had known in advance that the 15th-century Astronomical Clock on the tower of Old Town Hall would be gone during our visit, having been dismantled in September and taken offsite for restoration. But in its place, the city had erected a scaffold displaying an image of the clock -- which, while not the same, was a nice gesture.

   Old Town Square was almost as quiet as the Charles Bridge had been, although a few more people were beginning to stir.  The Square is a huge cobblestoned space surrounded by centuries-old buildings -- including Old Town Hall on the west and the imposing Tyn Church on the east -- and punctuated near its northern boundary by a massive monument to the early-15th-century religious reformer Jan Hus.  (Well, Hus tried to be a religious reformer. What he got for his trouble was a trip to the stake and a long legacy of bloodshed.) 

   After a few hours of exploration in Old Town, we headed back across the Charles Bridge (which had become much busier) and bought a few groceries at a tiny market on Mostecka. Then it was back to the apartment for lunch and a nap before our first assault on the Castle, which loomed over our neighborhood like a giant in the back yard.

   Prague Castle is an enormous complex of palaces, administrative buildings, towers, and churches, and Barb and I had been there a couple of hours before we realized there was no way we were going to be able to see the whole thing in one afternoon. So we resolved to come back at least once more before leaving Prague, and that helped us relax for the remainder of our first visit.

   The centerpiece of the Castle complex, and the first thing anyone sees when looking toward the Castle from anywhere in central Prague, is St. Vitus Cathedral. Like the Charles Bridge, St. Vitus was a project begun by Charles IV in the mid-14th century -- but unlike the bridge, St. Vitus remained under construction for centuries. It was finally completed in the 1920s . . . and during our visit, scaffolds indicated that it was undergoing restoration work on its western facade and eastern wall. (Which reminds me: We had already noticed that restoration work was underway on a number of historic buildings throughout Prague. Right across the street from our apartment, for example, Lichtenstein Palace was undergoing extensive repairs. So we never had to set an alarm clock, because there was chiseling going on outside our window by 8:00 AM every day.)

   One of Barb's Bohemian ancestors, John Bohumil, was a stonemason who worked on St. Vitus in the 1800s, and there's supposed to be a plaque somewhere in the cathedral that commemorates his service. Unfortunately, there was no way for us to find it, because "Bohumil" wasn't John's original surname. In fact, "Bohumil" isn't a Bohemian surname at all, but a given name. The story is that John was awarded the name "Bohumil" (which I'm told means "one who loves God") as a surname in recognition of his work. But it's also possible that "Bohumil" was actually his given name at birth, and that he began using it as a surname because he took the more American-sounding first name "John" upon emigrating to the U.S. In any case, Barb and I couldn't even guess what name or names to look for on a plaque . . . assuming that we could have found such a plaque in a place so enormous and ornate anyway. Even so, it was awe-inspiring to gaze upon all of that amazing stonework and realize that somehow, some way, we had a connection to it.

   After that first visit to the Castle, we headed back down to Nerudova and had dinner at U Certa ("At the Devil"), a restaurant in the same building as our apartment. The food -- pork, duck, cabbage, and other good things -- was more than delicious, and it put us into fine spirits for walking back across Karluv Most to Old Town so we could take in a show entitled "Black Box" at the Image Black Light Theatre.

   Black Light Theatre, which is unique to Prague, combines illusion, dance, pantomime, comedy, and unabashed sexiness in a mixture found nowhere else. Some have compared it to Cirque du Soleil, and the comparison is somewhat valid -- but I found "Black Box" to be earthier and more intimate than the Cirque shows I've seen. While Cirque du Soleil seems, to me, to say "these are things beyond your experience that you could never do," Black Light Theatre seems, in contrast, to say "this experience is yours; this magic depends on you."

   Barb and I both loved it, and it was an appropriately surreal and beautiful way to end our first full day in Praha.

   Some of the things I learned on October 18: In the early morning, before the noise and the pickpockets arrive, walking on the Charles Bridge is transcendent.// Don't pay a 657Kc grocery bill with a 2000Kc note, if you can help it.//Prague Castle is darn big.//King Charles IV is buried in the basement at St. Vitus Cathedral.//And if you sit at least five rows back from the stage at the Image Theatre, you really can't see the actors dressed in black . . . and that girl in the white leotard is FLOATING IN MID-AIR.

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   Wednesday, October 19. We spent the morning catching up on sleep and reading before going out to a beautiful, sunny afternoon. We bought stamps and mailed postcards from a post office in Mala Strana, then encountered a cluster of Czech teenagers heading back to school after their lunch break. They were grinning and chatting 1.6 kilometers a minute, and I couldn't understand a word they were saying . . . so it was just like encountering a cluster of teenagers in the States.

   Then we hiked up Nerudova to a little cubbyhole of an Internet café, took care of a few email chores, and bought more postcards. The lady running the café wanted to know all about where we were from and why we were visiting Prague. She spoke English well, but I could tell that her accent wasn't Czech -- and sure enough, when we told her that we had come to Prague from Texas, she brightened and said, "I'm from somewhere else, too. Bulgaria!"

   After saying goodbye to our new Bulgarian friend, we headed back up to the Castle. We revisited St. Vitus, and then we hit St. George's Basilica (portions of which are over a thousand years old), the Royal Palace (including the huge Vladislav Hall), Golden Lane (so named because its little houses were once occupied by goldsmiths), and Dalibor Tower (the lower portion of which includes your basic dank, horrific medieval oubliette). Then we saw just a bit of the Royal Gardens before tuckering out.

   We had dinner on Nerudova again, at the "Three Fiddles" Restaurant at Number 12. Like many of the 17th- and 18th-century buildings along Nerudova, Number 12 has a carved "house sign" over the door that served as its address before the numbering system was instituted. In this case, the building was occupied by a family of violin-makers in the 1700s, so its house sign reflected that fact . . . and it's been the "House at the Three Fiddles" ever since.

   The food was just as good at the Fiddles as it had been at the Devil, and it's there that I began my serious love affair with Czech bread dumplings and gravy. (Barb had apricot dumplings that were pretty tasty as well.)

   The night was clear and moonlit, ideal for more walking. But we were exhausted (and stuffed) and went to bed early.

   Some of the things I learned on October 19: The Riders' Staircase entrance to Vladislav Hall is large enough to accommodate horses, and at one time did so.//Franz Kafka lived and wrote at the tiny house at Number 22, Golden Lane, over the winter of 1916-17; he was sharing it with his sister, and it must have been cramped.//Dalibor of Kozojedy, during his time imprisoned in the tower that now bears his name, learned how to play the violin beautifully -- but the king killed him anyway.//A Bulgarian and a Texan who meet in Prague can bond over the fact that neither of them is from Prague.//And there's always room for dumplings.

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   Thursday, October 20. This morning was overcast again, but not gloomily so. We awoke to the sound of power tools across the street -- surprising, since Tuesday and Wednesday mornings were limited to the sounds of chisels and hammers. But we didn't mind because it was time to get up anyway.

   We began the day by making some preliminary attempts at on-the-cheap genealogical research.

   First, we stopped at a phone booth on Nerudova and checked the phone book to see how many Kocis we could find (see "Prague Autumn" for details about my Koci ancestors). And we discovered that "Koci" is not exactly an uncommon surname in Prague. My ancestors got around.

   At least some of the Kocis in the book must be distant relatives of mine . . . so the next time we're in Prague, when I hope to be speaking better Czech, I may phone a few and ask them if they had any tailors in the family two or three generations back.

   After leaving the phone booth, we returned to the same Internet café that we'd visited on Wednesday, chatted with our Bulgarian friend, and checked some websites for clues about how to obtain copies of Czech vital statistics records. We found just enough information to confuse us, which we decided was plenty for the time being.

   Then we wandered toward the river and came upon the "Lennon Wall" behind the French Embassy. During the Communist era, the Lennon Wall became not only a graffiti-emblazoned tribute to John Lennon, but a defiant advertisement for the free expression of ideas. The authorities whitewashed the wall over and over again -- but the brightly-colored, insistent graffiti always came back. Today, the Lennon Wall remains as an ever-changing monument, bulletin board, and work of art.

   After crossing the Certovka (Devil's Stream) onto Kampa Island, we climbed up the stairs to the Charles Bridge so we could walk into Old Town again. The bridge was packed this time, jammed almost shoulder-to-shoulder with tourists, souvenir vendors, puppeteers, and musicians. It was a jangly, crowded scene worth experiencing once . . . but we began to think about taking an alternate route on our way back.

   We strolled through Stare Mesto down to Nove Mesto (New Town, founded, again, by Charles IV in the 14th century), the focal point of which is the long, wide boulevard of Wenceslas Square. This was where the Velvet Revolution took place in 1989 . . . and where the statue of Good King Wenceslas (on his horse) stands guard. But like so many other historic structures in Prague, the base of the statue was surrounded by scaffolding during our visit. So next time, the cleaned-up Good King will be even more majestic.

   From Wenceslas Square we walked to the main train station (Hlavni Nadrazi) to reconnointer for the trip we would take the next day. Among other things, this preliminary visit helped confirm something I had noticed out on the streets of the city: Dogs are an important part of Czech society. Sometimes they're leashed or muzzled, sometimes not -- but one way or another, they're in the thick of things. There were a number of pooches of varying breeds and sizes trotting along with their people in the busy station -- and I even saw one tiny, leashless Yorkie dodging in and out among the multitude of ankles as it dutifully followed its hurrying owner. I was amazed that it wasn't crushed underfoot, since no one else even seemed to notice it . . . but it had clearly done this before, and it zigzagged its way through the throng without injury.

   After exploring the station, we walked up Jeruzalemska past the beautiful Jerusalem Synagogue, then on to the Powder Gate (one of the historical entrances to Old Town), the ornate Municipal House, and Republic Square. It seemed to me that we saw something of the "real Prague" on this walk, the Prague where Czechs live their lives without being surrounded by a constant crush of tourists.  So I was pleased by that.  I was also pleased that Barb was kind and patient enough to wait for me while I window-shopped the guitars in a music store near Republic Square.

   We continued to Old Town Square, coming in from the east side (the Tyn Church side) this time. Then, after a coffee break, we walked up Kaprova and took the Manes Bridge back to Mala Strana. We had dinner at "Malostranska Beseda" in Little Town Square, opting for a Czech variety plate for two that included pork, duck, ham, chicken, cabbage, potatoes, potato dumplings, and (of course) bread dumplings with gravy. We washed it all down with Pilsner Urquell, then waddled back to the apartment and collapsed.

   We went to sleep knowing that the next day, Friday, we would leave the city (and its plethora of English-speakers) and discover a few things about the Czech Republic beyond Prague.

   Some of the things I learned on October 20: The name "Koci" (with a hacek over the letter c that my keyboard can't replicate) is almost as common in Prague as the name "Jones" is in Austin.//The Lennon Wall proves that graffiti can be beautiful.//The weekend crowds on the Charles Bridge start showing up on Thursday.//Wenceslas Square is the heart of modern Prague.//It costs only 5Kc to use the men's room at the main train station (but you'll spend 6Kc if three 2Kc coins are the only coins you have, and you're too embarrassed to wait for the female attendant to give you 1Kc in change).// And finally --  Although the bottled Pilsner Urquell that's exported to the U.S. tastes pretty darn good, it's not even close to the Pilsner Urquell you can get on tap in Prague.

   As my friend Howard Waldrop would say, Trust Me.

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