Ah, Prague, Prague... Good afternoon! I'd like to tell anyone who might be interested about what I saw in Prague. I found myself in the Czech Republic as part of a typical, run-of-the-mill bus tour, of which, as they say, there are countless these days. They're considered the "economy class" of the global tourism industry, but even on them, despite all the inconveniences inherent in this type of tourism, you can still find many useful things. If you want to! So, on our trip, we visited three Czech cities, but what cities they were – Prague, Krumlov, and Karlovy Vary! These are three of the most beautiful cities in the Czech Republic. Of course, the most important of them is Prague. "The City of a Thousand Towers," as it's sometimes called by locals, who, of course, believe there's no city more beautiful in the world. In reality, there are "only" 102 towers in Prague (built in various periods, mostly from the Middle Ages). The most important of these are the towers of ancient Prague churches and cathedrals, such as the Church over Týn ("týn" means fence—a low wall once stood in front of this church, hence the name) and other famous structures of the same type, such as the Powder Tower. Remember how in Hašek's "The Good Soldier Švejk," the main character sings, "...marches to Prašná Brána on the špazir..."? Incidentally, regarding the "national hero of the Czech Republic," the Good Soldier Švejk—he is greatly revered there; guides even show curious tourists "Švejk-related places" in Prague. Such as the hospital where Švejk ended up after the draft board doctors suspected him of malingering, and where the sadistic doctor, Grünstein, exposed those like Švejk with brutal, reusable enemas and so on. However, I won't recount the plot of that incomparable novel (alas, unfinished by the author), which many of you have probably read. And the Czechs have even coined proverbs that commemorate the brave soldier. A female guide named Dagmara from Krumlov used to say to us, "We are all Švejks!" What she meant was that their humor is crude, simple, or something. They make fun of themselves and aren't shy about it. And that's a good thing, because, as I read in a good book as a child, "Only fools can't laugh at themselves!" And the author of "Švejk," Jaroslav Hašek, wrote in the preface to one of the chapters of his novel that he heard one of his compatriots scold another, telling him "that he was as stupid as Švejk." Which, according to the writer, proves just the opposite! In Prague, we weren't just shown "Švejk's places." Our tour group was given the standard Prague itinerary. We visited Vyšehrad, then transited through the presidential palace, which, like similar structures in some other Central European countries, is freely accessible to anyone (unlike in Ukraine, where, as they say, in Kyiv, even the side of the street where the Verkhovna Rada is located is off-limits). Along the way, our attention was drawn to the eerie-looking, enormous columns or lanterns, greened with age, that we encountered here and there. It turned out that these were none other than "plague columns"—unique monuments to the victims of the plague epidemics that plagued Europe not only in the Middle Ages. The thing that stood out to me most in Prague was the Charles Bridge. It's a huge medieval stone bridge over the Vltava, the river on whose banks Prague lies. It's adorned with statues of many Czech saints. The statue of St. John of Nepomuk is especially popular with visitors. Guides tell tourists that if you hold his foot with one hand and simultaneously step on a nail set into the pavement nearby with one foot, making a wish, it will certainly come true! I don't know, I don't know... My wish didn't come true, I admit. We then found ourselves in the city center, where our tour ended—until the evening. In the evening, we took a boat ride down the Vltava. The most unusual part of this trip was one half-hour stop. We found ourselves in a lock that we had to pass through to continue our journey. It's like a tunnel—the lock walls are on either side, and you're sitting on the deck at a table, sipping champagne or something stronger, chatting, while the rising water lifts you up like an elevator, "to the stars," so to speak... Another thing that surprised me greatly during this "cruise" was that the Czech staff at the "boat" bar for some reason refused to understand my Polish (which is very similar to Czech), which, as my Polish friends told me, I speak quite well. But they understood Russian perfectly! So there you have it! These are the impressions I was left with after visiting Prague. A bit too little, you might say? I sincerely hope you'll have more of them when you visit "golden Prague" yourself!
(Translated by Google,
see original)