It is worth another interjector to say that Prague is very richly cultured all over, lovely and vibrant, I would love to go back and live there for a little while.
So Jan and I took the opportunity to be a part of this culture of which we speak, and decided to dine for the evening at a little known small restaurant near Wenceslas Square called McDonalds. I ordered a hamburger and chips with a large strawberry shake, and Jan two cheeseburgers (oh the strange details one remembers). At this McDonalds place they give you your food all on a tray when you pay at the counter, and you go then and find your own seat. Well I picked up my tray but turned awkwardly and my large shake lost balance and tumbled from the tray. This wasn’t an ungraceful fall however; as I looked down to see the impact I watched as it tumbled nicely and hit the ground squarely on the exact bottom of the cup. This was extraordinary to witness – the cup instead of rocking or tumbling or crumpling instead shot two thirds of its contents into the air. My shoes, shorts and jacket were of course all hit, my face was almost directly above the cup and was the most covered by the eruption. Even the girl behind the counter had a spot in her hair. You can just picture me covered in pink goo trying to explain through sign language to this girl that she had some in her hair. I think she thought I was trying to be funny because she’d nod and giggle at my every attempt. Finally Jan got a photo and I was able to start cleaning down.
Our reason for choosing such a classy establishment for evening dinner that night was not primarily to experience this starkly new culture, but more so to be finished with dinner promptly so we might scoot across town to the Opera house and make the Gala Opening Concert of the Prague Music Festival – the Prague Radio Symphony Orchestra playing Brahms’1st Piano Concerto and Beethoven’s 7th Symphony.
And scoot we did, making it in good time. The friendly doorman asked us in velvet British tones, which perhaps came with his suit and tales, for our tickets. We couldn’t yet oblige so he directed us to the ticket office around the corner. It was only after this encounter that we thought “Gee, it was mighty good of a man so well dressed and groomed to be so polite to dags like us”, and then the logical extension “perhaps we should have thought about wearing something other than the smelly and dusty clothes we’ve been walking and climbing in all day”. We were both in shorts, Jan with a Pinky & The Brain t-shirt and me with my shake-stained jacket. Nevermind, no time for that now. Our tickets cost us each 600 Kroner (we splurged on the best seats still available) which came to $32.12 a pop. Feeling that we were a little more worthy because we could afford such high spending we returned back around the corner and up the grand stars to the main entrance and were greeted warmly once again and directed to the cloakroom and then to proceed around the corner.
Around the corner free champagne and a room full of what seemed Prague’s royalty awaited us. The champagne was quite nice and our fellow concert-goers were less than amused to see the state of the nation had crumbled to the point where such people as us were also patrons (I mean, communinism was one thing, but…). Jan and I lingered in the toilets and almost cowed in the corner of the lobby for a short while before (over our third glass) I suggested to Jan that we had come this far, had the gall to be in the same room as these people, and it’s only a small step further to have the audacity to join them, even meet them at their level and interact with them. Actually what I think I said was “are you feeling ballsy? Let’s go mingle” but the net effect was the same, and soon enough we were in the thick of Prague’s upper crust. Our “Good Evening”s were met with the predictable range of return greetings along with some expected cold stares and icy shoulders, and one surprising “good on you guys, you’ve got guts” style of wink. A marvellous night even before the music!
And the music! To be hones Jan and I both were starting to nod off during the introduction to the Piano Concerto, but once the pianist started we were picked up and transported to that surreal place of total immersed enjoyment.
The Opera House itself is not very large, and is as crazily ornate as expected. Our 600 Kroner bought us seats about a third of the way back from the stage and about a third in from the side, and were great for the experience but made it a little difficult to keep my stifled coughing to myself and exceptionally embarrassing when I had a ‘down the wrong pipe’ episode while trying to keep my stifled coughing to myself. Jan nearly picked me up and threw me out himself, but I was soon good again so no real harm done.
During Interval we purchased ourselves another glass of bubbly so as to round off our evening you see. Beethoven’s 7th was again an amazing experience, but even more so than Brahms. In that place in that time I was beamed up to a whole new plane of sublime fulfilment and it took a good while to start to come down again.
At the end of the night Jan and I ran into a few of the others on the tram home, and buzzed our great evening to them. When we arrived back at camp I found Antoinette, took her by the hand, ran with her, twirled her, threw her in the air and kissed her madly. The whole evening was a wonderful passion kick-starter.
So Jan and I took the opportunity to be a part of this culture of which we speak, and decided to dine for the evening at a little known small restaurant near Wenceslas Square called McDonalds. I ordered a hamburger and chips with a large strawberry shake, and Jan two cheeseburgers (oh the strange details one remembers). At this McDonalds place they give you your food all on a tray when you pay at the counter, and you go then and find your own seat. Well I picked up my tray but turned awkwardly and my large shake lost balance and tumbled from the tray. This wasn’t an ungraceful fall however; as I looked down to see the impact I watched as it tumbled nicely and hit the ground squarely on the exact bottom of the cup. This was extraordinary to witness – the cup instead of rocking or tumbling or crumpling instead shot two thirds of its contents into the air. My shoes, shorts and jacket were of course all hit, my face was almost directly above the cup and was the most covered by the eruption. Even the girl behind the counter had a spot in her hair. You can just picture me covered in pink goo trying to explain through sign language to this girl that she had some in her hair. I think she thought I was trying to be funny because she’d nod and giggle at my every attempt. Finally Jan got a photo and I was able to start cleaning down.
Our reason for choosing such a classy establishment for evening dinner that night was not primarily to experience this starkly new culture, but more so to be finished with dinner promptly so we might scoot across town to the Opera house and make the Gala Opening Concert of the Prague Music Festival – the Prague Radio Symphony Orchestra playing Brahms’1st Piano Concerto and Beethoven’s 7th Symphony.
And scoot we did, making it in good time. The friendly doorman asked us in velvet British tones, which perhaps came with his suit and tales, for our tickets. We couldn’t yet oblige so he directed us to the ticket office around the corner. It was only after this encounter that we thought “Gee, it was mighty good of a man so well dressed and groomed to be so polite to dags like us”, and then the logical extension “perhaps we should have thought about wearing something other than the smelly and dusty clothes we’ve been walking and climbing in all day”. We were both in shorts, Jan with a Pinky & The Brain t-shirt and me with my shake-stained jacket. Nevermind, no time for that now. Our tickets cost us each 600 Kroner (we splurged on the best seats still available) which came to $32.12 a pop. Feeling that we were a little more worthy because we could afford such high spending we returned back around the corner and up the grand stars to the main entrance and were greeted warmly once again and directed to the cloakroom and then to proceed around the corner.
Around the corner free champagne and a room full of what seemed Prague’s royalty awaited us. The champagne was quite nice and our fellow concert-goers were less than amused to see the state of the nation had crumbled to the point where such people as us were also patrons (I mean, communinism was one thing, but…). Jan and I lingered in the toilets and almost cowed in the corner of the lobby for a short while before (over our third glass) I suggested to Jan that we had come this far, had the gall to be in the same room as these people, and it’s only a small step further to have the audacity to join them, even meet them at their level and interact with them. Actually what I think I said was “are you feeling ballsy? Let’s go mingle” but the net effect was the same, and soon enough we were in the thick of Prague’s upper crust. Our “Good Evening”s were met with the predictable range of return greetings along with some expected cold stares and icy shoulders, and one surprising “good on you guys, you’ve got guts” style of wink. A marvellous night even before the music!
And the music! To be hones Jan and I both were starting to nod off during the introduction to the Piano Concerto, but once the pianist started we were picked up and transported to that surreal place of total immersed enjoyment.
The Opera House itself is not very large, and is as crazily ornate as expected. Our 600 Kroner bought us seats about a third of the way back from the stage and about a third in from the side, and were great for the experience but made it a little difficult to keep my stifled coughing to myself and exceptionally embarrassing when I had a ‘down the wrong pipe’ episode while trying to keep my stifled coughing to myself. Jan nearly picked me up and threw me out himself, but I was soon good again so no real harm done.
During Interval we purchased ourselves another glass of bubbly so as to round off our evening you see. Beethoven’s 7th was again an amazing experience, but even more so than Brahms. In that place in that time I was beamed up to a whole new plane of sublime fulfilment and it took a good while to start to come down again.
At the end of the night Jan and I ran into a few of the others on the tram home, and buzzed our great evening to them. When we arrived back at camp I found Antoinette, took her by the hand, ran with her, twirled her, threw her in the air and kissed her madly. The whole evening was a wonderful passion kick-starter.
posted by Tim at 7:55 am
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