I'm baaack!
Oh, wait: That was an Austrian accent. Well, it's the country next door, anyway. Just like an American talking with a Canadian accent, eh? ;-)
All right...Now that I've offended Americans, Canadians, Czechs and Austrians, what's next? I guess I'll indulge in a cliche and say that I can't believe I'm back already. I felt like I was just starting to get the hang of cycling on cobblestoned streets on which half of the width was taken by tram tracks. And I was just starting to feel right on the bike I rode. It's really not a bad bike, for its intended ridership, anyway.
I haven't gotten on a bike since getting home last night in a veritable deluge. Today it's been raining on and off, and there's no place in particular to which I must, or want to, go. Riding in my usual settings will be a bit of a comedown--sort of like the sensation I felt after eating a really bad takeout meal the day after arriving home from a bike tour from France into Spain and back.
Yes, I miss cycling in Prague, even though it seems like less of a cyclist's city than New York now feels. But there is definitely a cycling scene developing; it's more or less where New York's cycling community was about twenty years ago. That is to say, for one thing, that most of the cyclists--at least the ones I saw--are young, though not children. And, like most Big Apple cyclists of yore (i.e., my youth), those Prague cyclists are riding either mountain bikes or road bikes that have been adapted in one way or another to city commuting. Back in the day, messengers and a few other "fringe" riders pedaled the sorts of bikes we now call "hipster fixies" (although we didn't have V-shaped rims available in colors to match our team kit!); I saw the same sorts of bikes in Prague.
Actually, those bikes are strangely appropriate for a city and country that are still in the process of creating and re-creating themselves from the detritus of its past and things that could scarcely have been imagined during that past. In other words, they're exactly the sort of bike one would, and should, ride to a music club adorned with psychedelic posters inside a Soviet-era nuclear bunker. (Yes, I saw such a place!). And, of course, said bike would be parked in a place like this:
Seeing the photos in my previous two posts, I think you can understand why I haven't been posting much. I'm taking in as much of this city as I can. And, now that I've been navigating it on bike, I'm coming home really tired. It seems that in order to get anywhere in this city, you have to climb a hill. Of course, that's one of the things that makes it so beautiful.
I've entertained thoughts of moving here. Talking to Spencer at City Cycles has made me think even more about it. I've also talked to three other Americans who live here, and all are happy, In fact, there's something about people generally that seems happier, or at least less stressed-out, than people in any American city I've seen. The Czechs themselves are reserved, but invariably helpful and polite. Plus, they almost seem to expect that you don't speak Czech, and if they know any English, they want to use it. Of course, if I were to move here, I would learn Czech, and possibly German. (I knew some of the latter at one time, but have lost it through non-use.)
What I'd have to do, of course, is get my bikes and cats over here. From what I've heard, the former would be easier than the latter. Then again, I guess that would be true if I moved to almost any other country. (When I lived in Paris, I didn't have cats, or any other pets.) But if people here could live under Hapsburgs (I've heard that people have been denied PhDs in European history because they and their professors couldn't agree on whether it should be spelled "Hapsburg," "Habsburg" or "Habsbourg.") and Nazis and Communists, I could do those things.
As far as work goes: I hope to do more writing for pay. And, of course, I could teach English: It seems that there's an almost insatiable demand for it here. Also, I'm told that people--particularly business people and students--want to learn other languages as well.
And, to top everything off, although the cycling community is still small compared to, say, German cities or New York, it's growing.
And how can you not love a city where you see bikes like these?
This one belongs to a young male concession-stand worker near the Lapidarium. He told me that the bike belonged to his grandmother, and he painted the fenders, brake rods and bottom bracket cups.
This Dutch Batavus tandem was parked near the Astronomical Clock. I don't know whether it belonged to a local resident, to some Dutch couple on vacation, or someone else. It looked interesting: It was lugged, and the rich brown paint looked new, as did the Sturmey Archer internally-geared hub in the rear and dynamo hub on the front.
I saw this one in a shop in Vinohrady, one of the city's loveliest residential neighborhoods. In the same shop, I saw a bike that confirms something I've long suspected:
Tell me it isn't a Dahon for the Czech market, whatever the label says. Down to the smallest details I could see, it sure looks like the Dahon I had. This confirms my suspicion that there are about a half-dozen, maybe ten, factories in Taiwan and China that are making about 99 percent of the bikes in this world. They just get sold under different names in different countries. As an example, I could see little difference between bikes from "Author", a common brand here, and ones sold in the US and other countries under Giant's name.
And then there was this gem in a fashion display in Stare Mesto:
It's a Czech-made Favorit. I think it's been repainted, as I don't recall any Favorits from back in the day in that color or paint scheme. Also,the brown Brooks saddle and bar tape are give-aways: Favorit bicycles came with their own brand of tensioned leather saddle (which was actually quite good) and all saddles--save for "banana" seats on "Sting-Ray"-type bikes--in those days were black.
Also from Favorit is this bike:
Yes, it's the one that's taken me over cobbletones, pebbles, dirt and pavement, and beside tram tracks as well as the Vlata River!
Summer...In the US, it's a time when frazzled parents with squalling kids go to amusement parks, professional couples go and fry themselves on beaches that, they believe, only they know about. And guys go to the movies to see pikshas of girls with guns. Said girls, of course, are usually not wearing much more than their ammo belts.
So, for all of you guys, I'm going to offer the next best thing--a girl in Prague, on a bike:
OK, so I'm not wearing a bikini and my accessories don't run to bandoliers. And maybe I'm more of a babushka than a girl. (All of the tacky souvenir shops are full of row after row of Russian dolls. I thought Vaclav Havel and Alexander Dubcek ended such things!) So, just for having to endure the indignity of seeing an overweight middle-aged American woman on a rented bike, I'll offer you this:
Really, I didn't intentionally make her blurrier. I mean, just because she's younger and more attractive than I'll ever be, and is wearing an outfit I can only hope to pull of in my next life, it doesn't mean I sub- (or not-so-sub-) consciously took a bad photo. My real purpose...ahem...was to show the wonderful shop from which I rented the bike I rode. It's the same one from which I took a guided tour the other day: City Bike, on Namesti Republiky (Republic Square). It's a tiny place, entered thorough one of those wonderful covered passageways one often sees between public buildings in this city.
City Bike is literally steps from this architectural marvel. Municipal Hall out-Art Nouveaus any Art Nouveau building you've ever seen.
Just how you envisioned your next renovation, right? Just go down to your local Home Depot and pick up all of those materials.
The building and City Bike are also within two kilometers of many of this city's attractions: the Old Town Square (with the Astronomical Clock), among other things, the Old Jewish Quarter (where I went into the Starenovo, a.k.a. Old-New, Synagogue, the supposed home of the Golem), Wenceslas Square, the Charles Bridge and, of course, the Castle.
Today, on my first solo ride, I went by all of those places. Then, from the Castle, I took a left (I'm not talking about my politics) and went straight (No comment on that.) through some parts of the city I hadn't seen.
This building, in the Smichov shopping center, seems to be an inverse mirror reflection of Frank Gehry's "Dancing Building" on the other side of the Vlata River. (You can't see one building from the other, so I don't think this symmetry was intentional.) Smichov has been described as Prague's most "schizophrenic" neighborhood: the area around the shopping center and Andel station contain some of the city's swankiest villas. Yet, less than two kilometers down the road I cycled, near the Schmikovske Nadrazi rail station, is one of the most impoverished areas of the city. From that station, I found myself riding through an old industrial area, some of which seemed to be abandoned, until I came to an old residential area and, finally, a trestle that was just wide enough for the trams that passed over it.
Although I seemed to be cycling in even tighter spaces than I do in New York or have in Paris, riding these streets didn't seem quite as frentic. To be sure, I didn't have to be any place in particular at any given time. But, even when I rode down ancient cobblestoned streets not much wider than my (I'll let you choose the part of my body. Ha, ha.) and drivers approached from behind, they didn't honk their horns or pull as close as they could to my rear wheel. Admittedly, those streets aren't very long, so they didn't have to spend very much time waiting. But I could not imagine a New York or Parisian driver being so patient.
After I got back to my hotel and walked in search of a meal, this sight greeted me:
That, after this:
That was one of two rainbows I've seen since I've been here. A sign, perhaps? I hope!
