The Wall in Prague 2009

Friday, 30 October:

J and I boarded our budget Whizz Air (don’t laugh – it’s the airline’s name) flight at London Luton airport and after an hour and a half flight to the Czech Republic, arrived in the very chilly capital city of Prague (Praha, Praag, etc.). It was to be an extended weekend city break to see The Wall and celebrate my graduation. With Dorling Kindersley’s Eyewitness Travel guide to that timeless city in hand, we settled into our rather nice hotel - smoking allowed - and then made our way to the local metro station to get 24-hour transport tickets to cover bus, tram and metro travel.

It was cold and except for the few hours of broken sunshine on the day of arrival, overcast but dry. We would spend Friday familiarizing ourselves with the city and to take a test trip to the O2 arena to see how long the journey would take on Saturday night for the show and which method was quickest and/or most convenient. Just six Line B metro stops from Můstek to Českomoravská got us right to the entrance of the O2. The trip from the hotel to the metro then to the arena only took 40 minutes, so I planned to give ourselves an hour the next evening…just in case.

The arena seemed to be on the outskirts of the city centre, a bit suburban and deserted, but we had to remind ourselves it was a weekday afternoon when most inhabitants would be at work. We later discovered it was just outside central Prague and the public transport overall was fast and uncomplicated. The warning sign on the O2 gates informed us the items which were prohibited if attending the arena: cudgels, knuckle-dusters, knives, handguns, pipes, fireworks!!! The digital display above the metro station showed the temperature hovering between 3 and 4 degrees Celsius. Brrrrr!

Having completed our reccy, we wanted to see how long the tram would take getting back to Praha Centrum, but on the way I spotted a huge open-air market and decided to jump off there to have a look around, to absorb some local flavour rather than mingle with the tourists. Thankfully most people spoke enough English to make things less difficult for us since my Czech was non-existent. The dire warnings of the O2 sign became clear when we saw all the offending items listed above, and many more besides, freely available. The guide book assured us Prague was a relatively safe city but the weaponry on sale was a little disarming. Most of the market stalls were run by Orientals selling much the same things: cheap tat, so we made our way back to the tram stop after a WC break and continued our journey back to the city.

We had to get off at the next stop because one of our fellow travellers stank to high heaven, a mixture of rotting fish and shit, making both of us gag and heave. That was probably the most unpleasant experience of the whole trip and was, fortunately, never repeated. We took a late lunch at the opulent Café Imperial amidst the art nouveau splendour enjoying the traditional braised beef and bread dumplings with delicious and rich gravy that warmed the soul. We would find ourselves popping in to many places of interest as much to take refuge from the cold as to see the sights.

We made it to the Old Town Square just in time to see the Astronomical Clock chime the hour and then roamed about until nightfall and dinner time. The guidebook says the best way to see Prague is on foot, but by the end of the trip my dogs were barking and the cold didn’t do my aching neck any good at all. Shamefully, we had dinner at Buffalo Bill’s Tex-Mex restaurant in the New Town where I pigged out on BBQ ribs. The portions were huge and the staff friendly. It was only spoilt for me - since J didn’t mind so much – when a pair of very loud American ladies arrived and decided to engage us in unwelcome and overly personal conversation; one telling us her life story in the first 10 minutes. This is why I try to avoid Americans on my travels...unless they are in distress.

All in all, it was a very good first day, and the highlight of the trip, The Wall, was yet to come.

To be continued…

Cue 'Mission: Impossible' theme music.

I can't believe you wrote that sentence.

You just wait until you read how apposite was your first line.

And, okay smartypants, I should have written "disturbing" and "alarming," which is my version of a Byronesque portmanteau.

This happened when I was in Prague as well back in May...I was hanging out with my friends and we were discussing the vacation so far (we were on day 7 or 8 of our Euro-tour) and a guy from Maine butted into our conversation. He was like "I'm not trying to evesdrop...but I heard your American accents. I haven't seen anyone from the US the whole time I've been here" then he started to tell us everything about himself. His intrusion was not appreciated by us either. I thought he was an isolated incident...maybe it's an American thing? If it is, I apologize on behalf of my country. Keep us updated with the further details of your journey!

Don't worry. I am American too, which is why I try to avoid them. It's not an isolated thing, sadly.

The thing is, I would have had some sympathy for your guy because I have travelled and not heard ANY English spoken for long periods. So, I know how welcome it can be to finally hear, and understand, someone speak a familiar language. Just don't tell me your life story or ask to hear mine, for goodness sake.

Part 2 coming soon.

I am dripping with anticipation for the 2nd installment...

You're dripping with what? Wait, don't tell me, I don't really want to know.

Saturday, 31 October – Part 1

Not wanting to sleep the day away or to miss the Sovereign Hotel breakfast period, we started Saturday early and joined the other hotel guests in the breakfast room. How these Europeans exist on such paltry fare as bread, cheese and fruit for breakfast I will never know. And what the hell is the deal with roasted vegetables and crisp bread? Yuck! We opted instead for scrambled eggs, bacon and toast and jam with our juice and coffees; much more hearty and sustaining.

First off, a correction: my addled memory confused our lunchtime trip to Café Imperial and placed it on Friday when actually, after seeking out a bric-a-brac shop which seemed no longer to exist, we visited the Café Imperial on Saturday afternoon. Having arrived in Prague after 3PM on Friday, we only had time to walk around a bit then go for dinner at Buffalo Bills. Apologies for the mix-up.

So, anyway, after lunch on beefy gravy and dumplings, we walked up to the Old Town and passed the imposing gothic Powder Tower built in 1475 during the reign of King Vladislav II. This tower is attached to the Municipal House which is another of the city’s many Art Nouveau treasures, and leads one to the famous Charles (Karlův) Bridge. We detoured through the Jewish Quarter to take in the Old New (as opposed to the “New New”) Synagogue the attic of which is alleged to be the hiding place of Rabbi Juddah Loew’s legendary Golem – moulded from clay to protect the city’s jews from attack and persecution. We didn’t bother trying to get inside the synagogue for a look-see, but instead continued on toward the Vltava river and the Čechův bridge which framed a giant metronome on a hill on the other side.

Our destination was of course the medieval Charles Bridge with its imposing gothic towers at each end. We walked along the embankment and crossed the river via the Manes (Mánesův) Bridge to get the best views of the Charles Bridge. Venturing further on to the other side, to the Lesser Town, we walked toward the Charles Bridge and wondered at the autumnal colours on show and found our way onto this most famous of sights in Prague. On this end, there were two towers, the taller built apparently as a counterweight to the Old Town Bridge Tower on the opposite end. With street vendors and some 30 sculptures built on the bridge it is easy to see why it’s so popular with tourists and pilgrims alike. Even at this late date the crowds were formidable, the half-step shuffling was a bit annoying and I was glad to finally reach the other side.

This route takes us right into the midst of the tourist and commercial areas where every kind of Bohemian crystal and glass is displayed. Some rather brilliant, others a bit garish, and the majority fairly forgettable. We spied a sculpted glass bull to replace a previously owned broken one, but at £150 (US$240) we thought better of it. Perhaps on the next visit. Time was pressing onward and we made our way back to the hotel to prepare for The Wall in Prague.

Part 2 of Saturday’s reportage will continue after this short intermission …

(Let's all go to the lobby and get ourselves a drink!)

Saturday, 31 October – Part 2

Happy Halloween!

Although there were plenty of jack-o-lanterns to be seen in shop windows and around town, Halloween doesn’t seem to be much of an event for the Czechs. We even spotted some enthusiastic revellers dressed in Halloween costumes, but that was about it. This wasn’t the reason for our visit anyway, just a coincidence, so on with the show.

We took the more direct metro route and arrived at the O2 Arena with about 20 minutes to spare. We smoked a pre-show cigarette outside and then joined the growing throng to queue for the metal detectors and electronically verified ticket scanners. The arena is, as one might expect, a large circular building with a glass atrium surrounding the interior auditorium containing pre-show drink and snack counters, seating areas, WCs and cloakrooms to secure overcoats, etc. As I didn’t want to watch the show in shirt sleeves, I retained my jacket while J checked his coat and other winter outerwear.

Our tickers were for seats 1 and 2 of row 11 in sector 3, but finding the entrance to this sector proved rather confusing: it did not occur between entrances for sectors 1-2 and 4-5, but right round the other side of the building. This was a little worrying, but we found the correct entrance and were directed to row 11 of the gallery where two youths were already seated in seats 1 and 2. “Oh, here we go,” I thought, “now for the unpleasantness.” The parents/guardians of said youths insisted – luckily in English – that they were in the correct seats, so we sought recourse from the nearby arena attendant. Apparently our seats were not in the upper levels but, in fact, down on the arena floor next to the central aisle quite close to the stage; only eleven rows from the front. Excellent! No craning of my bothersome neck! We made our abject apologies to the innocent youths, took our rightful places and readied ourselves for the show.

Within minutes, the lights dimmed and the familiar strains of Louis Armstrong’s Wonderful World started up. “Hmm…that’s curious,” I thought. While this was happening, stage hands were moving mike stands and other equipment around. The wall was already partially built on both wings of the stage forming the lower half of a circle through which most of the stage and positions could be viewed. There was an extended interlude between the end of Louis’ song and the beginning of The Wall when some of the audience became a bit impatient with shouts and whistles.

Eventually an accordion player and trumpeter entered stage left playing Outside the Wall which furrowed the brow somewhat. "What's this bit doing here?" Again, I was confused and didn’t quite know what the hell was going on when, after another short pause, and even more confusion, Roger’s recording of When the Tigers Broke Free began with Czech subtitles projected onto a huge screen at the back of the stage. At the final line of this song, the audience’s attention was distracted by the beginning of In the Flesh? with an incongruous Surrogate Pink spotlit at the rear of the auditorium done up in SS uniform.

While In the Flesh? and Another Brick in the Wall, part I were played by the ensemble of Czech performers, stage hands slowly assembled the wall inward from both sides of the stage. The performers were competent enough and they performed the songs in English with easily overlooked Czech accents, and with subtitles and their own pre-recorded scenes reminiscent of the original film projected on the screen.

A long-haired young guy played David’s acoustic guitar parts and sang those parts that David sang on the album, and an older blond man played bass and sang the Roger/Pink parts. The main Gilmour guitar pieces were played by another man wearing a baseball cap and standing on a raised platform near the rear of the stage. There were two drummers, 3 female backing vocalists, a horn section on an even higher platform at the front right and an equally elevated keyboard area at the front left. These platforms, and eventually the players themselves, were soon obscured by the growing wall, brick by brick.

After the deafening helicopter intro, shrieking teacher and hammering drumbeats, “Pink” begins The Happiest Days of Our Lives, and during the bridge to ABitW, part II, about a dozen Czech children – 2 boys and the rest, girls - without the scary masks from the film – march on stage left and stand to attention to sing their “We don’t need no education/Teacher leave those kids alone” parts. They return in the second half to echo “Pink’s” words during Comfortably Numb.

The performers then adequately go through Mother and Goodbye Blue Sky and one has all but forgotten that this is not the Pink Floyd but a production of The Wall being performed. One cannot help but get drawn into the familiar story and appreciate the efforts of this talented group of performers rendering their version of this epic work.

Instead of Empty Spaces, we’re treated to the alternative What Shall We Do Now?, and before we have time to show our appreciation with applause, the pace quickens for Young Lust. This is accompanied by footage of our “Pink” and a young lady depicting carnal relations too graphic, I thought, to be witnessed by the group of child performers now seated in a vacant area of the stands just to the left of the stage. I then mused, “well this IS Europe after all. They must have fewer hang-ups about such shenanigans than us prudish New Worlders.”

Things slow down with the words of the girl in Pink’s hotel room spoken by one of the backing singers while Pink lounges in the chair of a hotel room tableau on a low section at the front of the stage which segues into One of my Turns. Pink grabs a real axe and clumsily destroys the furniture and I was thinking, “What if splinters, shards or fragments actually fly into the audience, or worse the axe flies out of his hands?” Luckily none of this happens and again the pace slows for the plaintive Don't Leave Me Now. The crowd begins to whoop with delight when an older lead guitarist appears for the outro of this song and continues on ABitW part III. I guessed this was another famous Czech performer because he got extended applause at the end of this song and a second curtain call to take more bows. Of course I didn’t recognise him, but conceded that he did deserve the adulation. J remarked that his playing was lot smoother and seemed more accomplished than that of the capped guy at the back

By this time, the wall is nearly complete with only one or two bricks missing from the centre. Though this aperture, Pink stands and sings Goodbye Cruel World and at the final “goodbye” the last brick is slotted into place. The darkened arena grows quiet for an instant before erupting in boisterous applause and the lights come up to announce the interval.

I am well pleased with the production so far and am glad for the break. And it seems a good place to pause my recollections here.

Saturday, Part 3 coming soon…

Good narrative, B. Glad you got to stroll across the storied Charles Bridge.

For some reason I thought Waters & Co. were going to be there, but obviously, it was a purely Czech production?

Looking forward to remainder...

I also thought RW would be in attendance, but DT soon disabused me of my misconception. Boo to DT!

Indeed, with the exception of Harry Waters performing on a couple of songs, the entire production appeared to be Czech.

The Charles Bridge is okay, but the tourist crowds, the renovation work and the street (bridge?) vendors seem to detract from the overall impression of such a literally and historically weighty span. The gothic towers on each end were more imposing and impressive.

I loved all the Art Nouveau and Art Deco frescoes and decorations at almost every turn. And the use of trompe-l'œil (trick of the eye) decorations elsewhere seemed just as prevalent, especially in the Lesser Town, Prague Castle areas.

We won't even start on the extraordinary amount of graffiti found nearly everywhere. Our taxi driver to the airport hotel said Prague is the European capital of graffiti and I can easily believe it.

It's not like I had him tied up in my basement. I don't have a basement.

Yet. You don't have a basement yet! How's that basement wine cellar coming along?

I enjoy the "poor-man's tourist" tactic of looking at Prague's beautiful art and architecture on Google Earth photos.

It is a tragedy and outrage that it all is being defaced by graffiti.

The little bastards
who do that
should be shot **
on the spot
when caught.

(Now that would be poetry)

**Channelling Reinhard Heydrich (the "Butcher of Prague") into a 'positive' direction.

Ask me in January, when we're in the new house, oh thou that won't visit despite the cost differential.

Where's the rest of the Prague story?