Centuries of Grandeur in Flaming Pastel

Sitting in Old Town.

The first thing one notices about Prague is the architecture: its centuries of grandeur in flaming pastel. Its ages of icons sitting vigil on every ledge. How obviously and for how long it was the seat of power in Bohemia, and at times, all of Europe.


All that to say, it's pretty.

A view of Old Town.

On our first day in the city, Dan and I set out from our hotel without a map and with no intentions other than to be lost in the sunshine. Prague was our destination to relax in: with only one show to play, we had nine days to enjoy the city in a most leisurely fashion. Not only that, but after two months of couchsurfing, we would be staying in a hotel - the lovely Mosaic House - that was not only giving us a few free nights, but a free breakfast buffet every morning of our stay. So heavenly.

Národní Galerie.

So we found ourselves strolling along the Vltava River, and bless Dan's patient little heart, because within seconds, I became that tourist. You know them; they've haunted your town. Flashy DSLR cameras dangling from their necks haphazardly, stopping every six seconds to take a photo of this or that monument. But how could I possibly help myself when the beauty I am always desperately searching for was suddenly appearing to me, now, in all its fairy-tale glory? 

Týnský Chrám (Church of our Lady before Tyn).

It became crowded: doors flung open to reveal dancing marionettes and glittering crystal chandeliers.  Stalls hawking cold Krusovice beers stood next to parquet-floor boutiques and their flaming red garnets. The tiny cobblestone alleys pressed into each other, wreathing around Staré Město, and then . . . we were there. And it was so beautiful, with such perfectly preserved history, that I held my breath and had to sit down.

Marionettes.

Prague Orloj (The Astronomical Clock).

Tall man, small alley.

Little lady, little alley.

Prague is so lovely, it almost hurts my feelings.