Prague: Cobblestones and sculpture

This has taken forever. Writing about this trip that happened nearly a month ago. Prague was the final stop. A city I've wanted to visit since Kathleen was abroad there. Thanks to phenomenally cheap flights from Paris, this was my chance. The city is infinitely walkable, from the castle to the T.V. tower across town in an hour, winding through backstreets and small parks. My gracious host sometimes narrated stories about the Jan Hus, Kafka's abode and the fall of communism which gave some otherwise inconspicuous sites newfound intrigue. 

Prague as seen from hilltop monastery.

What'd I do in Prague? A few churches, one modernist cathedral -- Church of the Most Sacred Heart of Our Lord (seriously) --, a bunch of lovely sculptures, river walks, sausages. The Castle Cathedral is extraordinary inside and out, elaborate gargoyles outside, stained glass by Alfons Mucha (who does those frequently calendarized seasonal ladies). I saw some of David Cerny's sculpture, and went to his studio space for a concert of sorts. When the Communists overthrew the Nazis, they created a monument to themselves -- a tank -- and Cerny, however long after the fact painted it pink to make a mockery of the fact that it was essentially one regime glorifying it's overthrow of another. Most of this work has this incendiary tone, or if not exactly incendiary, at least irreverent. 

Cerny's babies crawling up the T.V. tower.

The city itself was beautiful, split by a winding river, edged by forests and fields of flowering trees. The Charles Bridge lined with looming statues of saints; Bukowski's, a windowless bar with delicious cocktails that felt very post-Sovient chic; Petrin Forest's steep hills and blooming orchards. Too many impressions. Pictures will attempt to say what I haven't.

Resentment still lingers, it would seem.

In other news, I'm coming home from Greece a month earlier than I'd planned. The program changed from what it was initially, and I decided to flee the Mediterranean in hopes of celebrating national independence in the homeland. I am excited to see you all!

Lonely statue at dusk.

Paris: Wine and Cheese for breakfast!

One of my two gracious hosts in Paris assured me that wine and cheese, however typically French they may be, are not the usual breakfast fare. This did not prevent us from enjoying it at an outdoor cafe (Le Baron Rouge) where you can bring your own liter bottle and leave with French wine from one of the many barrels in the shop. One huge plate of cheese later we left, walking through the Marche d'Aligre a huge open-air produce market where apparently all the grandmothers of Paris do their shopping. 

Breakfast of Champions. 

Let me rewind for a second. I love Paris. I've been here twice before -- once as a twelve-year old visiting a friend who had moved to England (we took a trip to EuroDisney while I was with her), and once at the end of an exchange program after I'd spent a few months living in Brittany. I was here for four days staying with a friend from college, dear Isabelle, for the first two nights (11th arrondisement, near the Marais) and a family friend for the last two night (16th arrondisement, near the Eiffel Tower). It was beautiful. The people were incredibly friendly. And after however many years (3) away from the study of French language, mine held up remarkably well (plus-que-parfait need not apply). By the end of the trip I had resolved to return to Paris to live whenever I next decide to move shop from the U.S. of A. -- not even back yet and already planning my next time away. 

Pont Alexander III in front of the Grand Palais 

Anyhow, I'll try to cover some of what we did without sounding too list-like. The night I got there Isabelle and I took the metro (efficient! punctual!) to the Eiffel Tower and walked back past Les Invalides which has a nice garden full of soldier-looking shrubbery, the Grande Palais, a stunning building with a lit up glass dome that currently boasts simultaneous Andy Warhol and Dali exhibitions (why didn't I buy tickets ahead of time?). Crossed Alexander the third bridge -- gaudy, gold gilt, views of the Eiffel Tower -- actually, crossing as many bridges as I could was a goal, but I stupidly stopped writing down their names after this one. We continued walking through the Marais, Jewish neighborhood with astounding fallafel by day, gay neighborhood with raucous bars by night, a wonderful combination. Having walked until our feet ached, we settled into Isa's cozy apartment for the night.

Green flowers, white lady, the Tuilleries.

The next day (wine and cheese breakfast day!) was again walk-heavy, strolling along Le Coulee Verte which is garden walkway planted on an out of use raised rail system. Just in time for the first blooms of spring, everything smelled of lilacs, honeysuckle, and rain. From the walkway you have a perfect view of the rooftops of Paris: cue pipe dreams of a quiet life sitting on a tiny balcony reading books in the sun. From here we decided that wine and cheese were insufficient and we went to a small cafe on L'Ile St. Louis called La Charlotte de l'ile where we had chocolate cake and hot chocolate. It was out of the way, somewhere I'd never have found on my own, which is probably the exact reason I loved it.

A railway station converted. Beautiful.

I did manage to go to a few museums, yes. The first was the Picasso which I found disorienting, with mirror paneled walls, labyrinthine corridors and hidden rooms. Although I did love the portraits of Picasso frolicking in his studio, playing with his children, jumping rope. In other words, I much preferred the art to the museum. Not so at the next museum. The main hall of the Musee d'Orsay is without a doubt in my top five favorite rooms on earth -- that clock! Their collection is incredible, so many pieces of art that you recognize, so many more that you don't. When I was there they had a huge exhibit about the various influences of Rodin on the sculpture world. Here, I felt the architecture at least rivaled the art. Next up was L'Orangerie where Monet's water lilies are currently housed in large, oval rooms. It is a very calming experience to be surrounded by blue and green on all sides. 

Making a run for it, L'Orangerie.

I could go on forever. Eiffel Tower, Champs Elysees (only the strong survive: Louis Vuitton, Gucci, McDonalds), the Tuilleries (see Minotaur picture below), Notre Dame, Hotel de Ville (in typical French fashion -- full of protestors). Instead of going on and on, I'll post pictures.

One entry away from being caught up!

Stockholm: An Archipelago

Stockholm was breath-taking. My favorite new city on the trip, with Prague a close second. The entire capitol city is comprised of small islands (one only has a single building on it) connected by bridges. When we were there it was still officially winter, and it was cold. I bought mittens and wore them daily. In addition to being cold, it was light. The sun rose at around 5:30 every morning and at midnight still seemed like the tail end of dusk. 

View crossing the bridge from Old Town.

We stayed in Old Town (Gamla Stan) among beautifully painted apartment buildings, looming churches, and narrow cobblestone streets. The rest of the city is surprisingly bustling -- I had expected Copenhagen to have more going on, but Stockholm is huge in comparison. We ate meatballs, sipped hot chocolate in front of the Nobel Museum, took ferries to the farther parts of town. Apparently, the city's population triples during the high tourist season, and I can really see why. As charming as it was from beneath mittens, scarves and winter coats, I can only imagine how nice of a place this would be to visit in the warm season. 

Orange church, blue sky.

The people, and this applies to both Copenhagen and Stockholm, were tall, blond, sturdy. The height struck me more than the blondness -- all that viking ancestry still shows. Overall, Stockholm felt very livable, it is an easy city to wander. From Stockholm, Erin and I went our separate ways, she to a whirlwind tour of Italy for the final week, and I was off to Paris and Prague to visit old and new friends.

One at a time: Copenhagen

Writing these is proving to be a daunting task. But don't worry, I took notes.

First stop was Copenhagen, sparkling bit of Scandinavia that it is. There Erin and I stayed at a nice 2-star hotel near the train station, which is basically near downtown. The city was sunny and seemed to be just coming out of hibernation. People were very helpful, traffic was ludicrously well-managed (especially in contrast to my fair Athens, birthplace of Democracy and road rage), and bike paths lined every street. Everything works really well in Copenhagen, that was my impression at least. 

Nerd alert at the royal palace

The royal palace (Rosenborg Slot) is seated on a beautiful lawn where we ate delicious bagels with the rest of the under-30 population of the city. Beautiful scenery, beautiful people. Inside the palace, however, was underwhelming, especially in comparison to the lavish palaces of France. And let me tell you something, no offense to any Danes out there, but the Danish royal family has to be one of the most unfortunate-looking royal families of all time. And it wasn't looking up from generation to generation: talk about foreheads. But kudos on the lawn.

Glorious Nyhavn Street in the sunshine

Beyond the palace, the city is definitely manageable by foot. We strolled down Nyhavn Street for coffee, a small waterfront pedestrian street lined with cafes, daffodils and colorfully painted apartments. The daffodils were a recurring theme in Scandinavia -- growing in parks, along streets, sitting on tables. We walked across the river to Christiana which is the location of old barracks that have long since been taken over by anarchists and weed aficionados. It exists as something of a commune thanks to some peace-keeping legislation passed in the late 80s. Grungy, largely dilapidated, young population. And a long walk. 

We didn't go in, but it seemed beautiful.

Overall, the city was beautiful. The people were friendly, welcoming, there was lots of good food to be had (Erin and I skipped a park called Tivoli for a huge Indian dinner), scenic back alleys to stroll. But, buyer beware: this is most expensive place I've ever travelled to. From Copenhagen we set off to Stockholm...