The Czech Republic has always been somewhere I have been drawn to. It would be easy to say it is because of the beer, or the culture, or the length of the Czech girls’ legs – but in reality it is because that is where my father was working when I was a boy, and still lives today. For me it represents adventure and the exotic, and how obtainable that kind of exciting lifestyle can be. I remember receiving postcards when I was nine or ten years old of this far away place showing picturesque views over the city, or close up aspects of architecture on buildings I had never known existed; and on the reverse was a stamp I had never seen, bought with a currency I had never held, with the name of the country emblazoned on the bottom in a language I had never heard spoken. This place was so far away the distance had to be described in hundreds of miles, or hours on a plane, and yet this was also somewhere my father was able to go during the week and return from at weekends.
So it is hardly surprising that from an early age I wanted to explore this land which I had seen through my father’s eyes. Every time I return I think I appreciate it a little bit more. When I first visited I was still an awkward boy barely in my teens, and so whilst I appreciated the thought of beer and the long-legged girls, there wasn’t a lot I was able to do about it. I appreciated the parks with trees so confused about the seasons that they were green and golden, dropping leaves and producing conkers all at the same time. I watched my first jazz concerts and ballets with equal wonder at these new musical extravaganzas, so different from one another. I walked for hours along the cobbled streets, experiencing those aches only cobbles can cause, but which were made tolerable by the city which seemed to be a time-capsule of medieval and gothic architecture, peppered with shop fronts filled with swords, coloured glass, or marionettes. I remember the restaurants – a passion of mine from a very early age; the Japanese and Indonesian places I might lunch in, the stalls selling corn-on-the-cob and klobasa sausages for mid-afternoon snacks, and the fine dining restaurants which were affordable enough for every evening. And not a McDonalds in site!
As time has gone on, I have learnt more about The Czech Republic and started to appreciate different things. The place has changed a lot in the last fifteen years but because I know people there to point me in the right direction I can still find the cheap places for lunch, and avoid paying too much for a beer, and Prague still feels very much the same to me – even though now there’s no escaping the McDonalds. For a while my twice-yearly trips would be drunken blurs (depending on who I might take with me, Gordon!) and I enjoyed the delectable Bavarian beers that lined every street. A pub-crawl was quite often a very dangerous affair because of the amount of pubs you would have to pass on any given circuit! But these days I have more time for the galleries and exhibitions, the bottle of wine in the park, the quality beers savoured over an afternoon rather than drunk to help cope with the hangover from the previous night. And I have a lot more time for my family over there.
My sister Natalie is nearly nine years old, and is becoming the highlight of my trips out to Prague. She bounds around the room with a permanent grin on her face like a mischievous squirrel who mistook coffee beans for acorns. As far as I can tell, her main hobbies are tripping people up and pretending she doesn’t love being tickled – and when I see her she puts as much effort into ensuring her days are filled with plenty of both as she can. When I first met her, we would speak in English or Czech – and I could keep up for the most part. We would look at pictures of animals, and she would try and remember the English words and I would try and remember the Czech, and we were both learning from each other. Then a few months went by, and when I next saw her she was criticizing my accent, telling me off for not trying hard enough, and being far more cocky and confident with both her languages. I had fallen behind with my studies in a big way. I think she was about three!
Now it seems to take me most of a trip out there to remember how to get by in Czech with the handful of phrases which can still be coaxed out of the dark and dusty corners of my brain. But it doesn’t matter anymore – I have a little giggling translator hanging off my arm most of the time now!
Prague is a beautiful place. Have a look at my photos from February 2009!
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