This is part three of a three part series about Notes from Vivace’s quest to locate the local music scene in Prague.
Part One can be found here
Part Two can be found here
Chinese Man/Church of Lady before Tyn
Dedicated to the woman on crutches who moved slightly to the side and encouraged me to take some photos for all of you
I decided to go explore a bit further away from the safety of the general tourist area one night and headed off to Palác Akropolis, which I’m assuming means Palace of the Akropolis. It is located in the Žižkov district, which I was later to read is considered the wrong side of the tracks. I think wrong side of the tracks is a relative term when comparing European cities to American cities. I felt rather safe, although I could tell I was entering a poorer section of the city. There is also the (in)famous Žižkov Television Tower that was built during the Communist era. I read that it is surely zapping the residents to death.
I got to Palác Akropolis just in time to catch about half of Chinese Man. Yes, another band that finished everything up by 10:30 p.m. Chinese Man (pictured right) aren’t Chinese, they’re two French guys on turn tables. The place was packed. I couldn’t help but feel like I was at Metal Skool (old school name, new name Steel Panther), the only difference being that it wasn’t midnight yet at the Key Club. In fact, Palác Akropolis looks like a scaled down version of the Key Club. As their set ended, I could have sworn that I heard one of the guys yell out in English, “Thanks for welcoming us back!” And then I know for a fact that they said, “Thank you, everyone.” And yes, there was an encore or two. Now the night ended there for me, but not for the Akropolis. After the band, the place turned into a dance club so 10:30 p.m. wasn’t the end of the night at the Akropolis.
I wanted to check out a classical concert at the National House, which is an impressive building from the outside, but the only tickets available were front row seats for 500 Kč /$25 tickets so I passed. There was one major reason I didn’t buy a ticket for the National House: I didn’t want to be the only person in the good seats not wearing a suit. So . . . I opted to buy a ticket to catch Rejcha’s Requiem at the Church of our Lady before Tyn. Now who is this Reicha? He was a Czech born (Prague) naturalized French composer who was a friend of Beethoven’s (stolen from Wikipedia).
Now for this classical concert folks were actually dressed in a more relaxed fashion versus at Dvorak Hall. Perhaps it helped that it was a late afternoon concert. Instead of wearing dress jackets, men were in sweaters. There were even a few more jeans to be seen – though still in the minority. Even the ensemble didn’t have a uniform. Nearly all (less one, I’m sure he was made fun of) were in either black or dark grey dress, obviously their own clothing. I couldn’t help but think that perhaps I was at a less prestigious Prague Spring event. It didn’t matter, I enjoyed the concert even though I found myself trapped in my Duke-Carolina fear (a reference to part II of this Prague column), stuck sitting behind a church pillar. Behind me, I overheard a woman who had graduated from UCSB and was now attending Purdue University talking in awe of the musical instruments – I’m assuming she was an art/music major. Around the church were fourteen paintings that depicted the death of Christ from Pontius Pilate to the burial. I later located these same paintings at another church, making them hardly unique – once again bringing back the feeling that I was being presented with the Disneyland version of Prague and the surrounding areas.
Bits and pieces. Wait, did someone’s phone just go off? A photographer had his camera stuffed inside a cushion, I’m assuming to keep the noise from echoing off the church walls. A guy in the brass section seemed overly relaxed, playing his instrument effortlessly. During the encore – of course, an encore – an older gentleman decided to stand right in front of me. And then after the set, I noticed someone in shorts!!! After the concert, folks started moving towards the front of the church. It caused a bit of a log jam as many were trying to exit the church. I waited a bit and then went to the front of the church, as well. Those of us doing so were a bit curious about what we’d missed from sitting behind the church’s pillars.
Over-heard Comments and Some Additional Randomness
Dedicated to the little girl in the pink shoes who pointed to the ground at my precious map that I’d dropped in the tram.
I read that Czechs are quiet people and that if you’re a tourist, you should keep the volume down less you become a target for pickpockets. That is great advice for someone who is white, but what about us non-Caucasian people? It didn’t take long to figure out that I stood out no matter what.
“Get used to it.”
“And he’s just a cab driver.”
“They’re at that age, they’re teenagers.”
“I looked pregnant in that.”
I noticed an Asian tourist with two high end cameras strapped around his shoulders. Seriously?
My biggest waste of effort was my attempt to find Golden Lane 22. One of my friends wanted me to check out Franz Kafka’s house. Well, I asked around and kept on getting directed to Old Town Square. I looked around the Square, but couldn’t find Golden Lane 22. There is a monument and a book store dedicated to Kafka in the area, but I saw no Golden Lane 22. I finally found a website that told me that Golden Lane 22 was at the Prague Castle. I found that interesting since I hadn’t noticed it on my tour of the Prague Castle. I decided that I should give it one more attempt to find this Golden Lane 22 should my friend inquire about my vacation. I went to the Prague Castle and was told that the area was under reconstruction.
“This is my first time on a tram.”
“WTF, Why the Face?”
“He looked so cute.”
“It’s coming down heads.”
I saw kids roaming the streets on their own, even at night. I distinctly remember three kids; the oldest couldn’t have been older than twelve, huddled around a map, talking on a cell phone. There were also a number of teenage girls walking around in pairs. While at Karlštejn Castle, a couple teenage girls were walking up towards the castle, having the time of their lives. Many of these kids and teenagers looked European. Their parents were obviously not influenced by MSNBC’s Friday night series “MSNBC Undercover: Sex Slavery in America,” or even more relevant to them, Liam Neeson having to kill numerous Albanese human traffickers in “Taken.”
Prague women seem to know if they’re hot or not. If you’re a hot woman in Prague, you dress to make sure that everyone knows you’re hot.
After taking various tours, I came to the conclusion that the most skilled interpreters work at the historical sites. The less skilled work the tour buses.
It is strange to run into fellow tourists more than once: the older couple from Britain, the couple with the blind daughter, the spiked hair 20-ish year-old daughter on vacation with her much more conservative looking mother.
I saw a Hummer in the streets of Prague. I didn’t notice very many luxury cars in Prague (or in this case an environmental killer vehicle).
What I’m about to say does not apply to my lovely waitress at Lehka Hlava. For some reason, I think the Czechs are a bit rude. Perhaps ranking up there with the French. I know that is hard to believe. I went to France awhile ago and so perhaps my memories have faded, but I didn’t find the French all that rude. Now I was only in Paris for a day and I was in Prague for much longer so maybe it was just the fact that I encountered more people. I don’t know. And perhaps my opinion of the Czechs started off on the wrong foot when I encountered a young lad at the Prague Castle who approached me in a most racist manner. But I also got the sense that they were always in this great hurry of, “Okay, you’ve bought something now get the-you-know-what out of here.” This, of course, does not apply to the waitress, but then she was young and perhaps wasn’t jaded like her elders.
It is strange going to a city where one is distinctly in the minority. With Los Angeles probably having more ‘minorities’ than Caucasians, it is definitely an experience to feel like you overtly stand out. I often spent time looking around me, hoping to see another minority just so that I wouldn’t feel like the lone standout in a metro, tram or concert setting. I could swear at times that people were staring at me. Of course, at the various music venues, it just might have been people wondering how this foreigner had found this particular Prague venue. This constant feeling of being under observation may have lent to my feeling that the Czechs are a bit rude.
One Last Night Out
Dedicated to the hotel’s desk guy
After a few days in Prague, I realized I hadn’t asked a single person about the Prague local music scene though obviously I could have used some assistance. I guess I learned from Vancouver, where I asked a number of Canadians if they knew anything about the music scene, that it really is a useless exercise. The friends I have in Los Angeles are truly unique in at least one way. Most people in Los Angeles, I’m convinced, live their lives without a clue that there is actually a Spaceland or even less who have heard of Mr. T’s Bowling. So my general take is that asking a random person about a city’s music scene is useless.
On my last night, I decided to check out one more venue, Abaton. It was on the outskirts of the city so I decided that I should ask the hotel desk guy if the area was considered safe. “The area is fine,” he replied, “but there is nothing there of any significance. Why do you want to go there?” I replied that I heard there was a club called Abaton there. “Ah, that is a famous club.” I got a bit excited, “Do you think they have bands playing there tonight?” “I don’t think so. They usually have bands on a Friday and Saturday, but probably not on a Sunday.”
I decided to make a quick run anyways. I got to the metro and as each stop came and went, less and less people were on the metro and the stations were nearly devoid of people. I got off at my stop. It took me a few minutes of walking around to orient myself and off I went in the direction of Abaton, making sure I kept certain buildings in mind as I noticed only a lone tram track and decided that I would likely need to find my way back to the metro.
I’m not sure how best to describe where Abaton is. My best description is that Abaton is in an upgraded version of the Blue Star (located in Los Angeles, just to be clear) area – a shipping/industrial/warehouse zone. Blue Star is on a through street while Abaton is in a deadend street, surrounded by what looks like computer based companies along with some warehouses. Though it was easy to find, I did have a degree of uncertainty while walking towards it. I just couldn’t see how any “famous” club could be stuck in the middle of nowhere. Seeing a sign on the side of the road helped out a bit. There were also indications that I was heading in the right direction while walking down the industrial street. Band posters were plastered up along the road, indicating that this was intended for the eyes of party goers versus IT employees. When I got to the address, I was met with a gray building, totally nondescript. (It should be noted that I wasn’t able to find an Internet website for Abaton so I wasn’t sure what to expect – though during my column write-up research, this website popped up rather easily, hmm . . .) Next to Abaton, was another building with a loading dock. Above the door was a difficult to see “Abaton.” I have a feeling that at night, the sign is lit up, but in the early evening hours one wouldn’t even notice it if not looking for it. The place was painted such a non-descript gray that I doubted that I was standing in front of the right building even though the address matched up with my notes. And well, the fact that the doors were locked and no one was around didn’t help. I finally noticed the torn four corners of a poster and decided that I was in the right place, but just there on the wrong day.
With that, I headed back to the town center where I decided to catch a movie, “Prince of Persia: Sands of Time.” My opinion, the movie was just awful and I nearly walked out, but I wanted to stick it out and have that Prague movie experience. The film was in English with subtitles. I believe that there were assigned seats, but there weren’t that many people there so folks sat where they wanted. The aisle was up the middle of the theatre versus up the sides like many American theatres. Most of the previews were of American movies. They also served bacon/salt flavored popcorn. The cost of the movie was approximately $8.50.
I lost my trusty map at the movie theatre. It had served a good purpose.
As I headed back to the hotel, I ran into four Hells Angels at a tram stop. They were loud and boisterous and one decided to take a piss in a trash can. His buddies circled him to give him some minor privacy from the rest of us in the vicinity. One friend was so amused he took a photograph of his peeing friend. His piss soon streamed out onto the street. On the tram ride, the riders seemed more quiet than usual with glances being given to the four guys. I later came to the conclusion that there was a Hells Angels convention in Prague that week as I noticed various jackets with logos from Portugal, London and Indiana.
It is time to go home
Dedicated to the young college student from Tennessee
I took Bus 116 to get to the airport. We were crammed in like sardines. At the airport, I still had some Czech currency with me, so I started to buy some chocolate. I kept some Czech currency, figuring it made for a nice tourist memento. While entering the plane, I found that a young woman was in my seat. I mentioned to her that she was in my seat and she moved over, somewhat disappointed. She was tired out, exhausted. Over-hearing her conversation with her friend, I learned that she’d stayed up all night long because she was scared she would missed her flight. (I had the same feelings at Heathrow so it is nice knowing that I’m not the only one who fears missing a flight due to oversleeping.)
Comment from my seat neighbor: “I want some water, but it’ll only make me pee again.“ (I hope she never sees this blog.)
The first movie flying over Europe and the Atlantic Ocean was “Valentine’s Day.” I so started to miss Los Angeles. They had a scene at Hollywood Forever. In Prague, I noticed on Facebook that some of my friends had gone to Hollywood Forever to catch a Saturday night movie. Anyways, back to the movie. In the movie, there is a scene between Bradley Cooper and Julia Roberts. Julia Roberts drifts off to sleep, her head leaning against Bradley Cooper’s shoulder. Later on, when she wakes up, she makes this comment about that moment and how nice it was of him to let her sleep on his shoulder. After “Valentine’s Day,” I began to read a book, “Neither Here Nor There.” The young woman next to me (having slept hardly a wink all night long) fell asleep on my shoulder. I looked over at her and decided that based on the film I should just let her get some sleep. Across the aisle, a couple of her friends were laughing. I spent the time until she woke up reading my book. I felt like I’d done my good deed for the trip.
The second movie of the flight was “(500) Days of Summer.” Were these movies an indication that Los Angeles is where I belong or what?
A moment. An older Czech woman decided to exercise in the aisle. Her big butt right in my face. Give me a break, I thought, get your butt out of my face.
Thought. I wonder if those Airbus A380 jets have a special section for screaming children. If not, they should. A day care center on a plane, that’s what is needed.
“It is 10 o’clock now in Prague. That’s when we’d have dinner.”
“This is not the time or place. We’re in an airplane.”
Some awards
Dedicated to Troja
The worst directions possible award. The Fodor’s directions for the Troja Chateau/Villa/Palace. You cannot believe the effort it took to get to this place. On my first attempt, I took the tram system (as directed by the tourist book) and went for a walk that never ended. I finally gave up after what must have been a couple miles. The next day, I decided to take the bus (also via the tourist book) route, which dropped me off right in front of the Troja. The tourist book was very useful in general, but the directions to this place were the worst. They should have ditched the tram directions — or if given there should have been a footnote that read: expect to walk five miles and if you haven’t found it after a five mile walk you’re obviously lost.
Best site to contemplate life award. I believe it is called Petrin Gardens. It is a huge park with lovely spots to just sit and contemplate. (Note: If you ever learn that there is a serial rapist or murderer in Prague, go somewhere else because that person is surely hiding out at Petrin Gardens – it is just so huge.)
Best site to contemplate life award 2. The St. Peter and Paul church. This church dominates a hilltop and when I first saw it (my first evening in Prague) I knew I had to go there. This isn’t a place totally devoid of tourists, but there weren’t that many when I went there. You can sit and take in a lovely view from the hilltop without much disturbance.
That’s-a-really-irritating quote award. So I don’t watch Glee, but I guess this is a quote from one of the characters on the show, Rachel. “Gold stars are sort of my signature thing. I figure every time you wear it you can think of the star you’re helping me become.” I read that quote in Delta Magazine. I nearly choked.
A Couple Most Important Things when on Vacation: Money and Safety
Dedicated to the metro employee who made me go back to the ATM.
When on vacation one of the most important things in the world is money, non-US money. Where do you get some money? In Prague, it is very easy. At the airport, you walk through customs and as you’re about to exit the airport there are ATMs to the left. Each withdrawal costs $5, a little high, but a far better deal than what you’ll get at a Foreign Exchange office. One note at the airport, you may want to punch in an amount that will give you smaller bills. I decided to pull out 4,000 Kč ($200). That seemed like a reasonable amount to start things off; however, I got the equivalent of two $100 bills back. Now in order to buy a bus ticket, you need something less than the equivalent of a $100 bill, because the guy at the bus counter doesn’t have change for such a large bill. Since an adult transfer ticket is 26 Kč plus an additional 13 Kč per luggage, you probably want to pull out say 4,100 Kč from the ATM so that you have a 100 Kč to buy yourself a bus ticket.
Prague, in general, felt like a safe city. When you see young women getting off the tram at midnight and walking off on their own, you get the sense that you’re not going to get mugged. On the other hand, the warning about pickpockets is real. I tried to take the advice of my tourist book, don’t stand out as a tourist – though this was impossible as I was one of the few non-whites walking around the city. Not only was I not white, but I also just stood out as an American. I don’t now how to explain it. I just think there is a distinct difference between how we Americans dress versus Europeans. Yes, the whole world wears jeans (except for vacationing Japanese business men who for some reason only feel comfortable in suits), but there is just something that sets us apart. I’m not a fashion guru so I can’t explain it. Soon into my stay I got increasingly conservative with my money/credit cards as I started to get this strange sense that I might be a target for theft (obviously, I was eventually targeted). I almost always had a hand in the pocket where my passport, credit card and cash were.
Oh, and expect to pay to use the washroom.
Final Thoughts
Dedicated to the Beautiful City
I loved Prague and hope to go back some time. Take a look at some of the photos. It’ll say much more than my 9,500 word mega/multipart-column.
Check back Friday for a Special “Prague Trip in Photos” Post
