the victories of capitalism

The first few days I was in Prague it was overcast and cold, the clouds hanging low over the city, casting a grey, sad light through the streets.  I was standing on the bridge over the River Vltava, fog rising from the waters while birds flew from obscured places, propelling the mist into quick swirls behind the flapping of their wings.  The old medieval bridge was further down, parts of it hidden in the mist, with the tower at the base rising out.  Further on and upward was the Prague Castle, a huge expanse of palaces and churches, crowned by the Cathedral of St. Vitus, with its two great Gothic spires spiraling upward, looking like an HR Giger masterpiece for an Alien movie.  Another hill, to the Castle’s left, rose up even higher and had a wall going straight down it and it was topped by a steel tower that looked like the Eiffel.   

Jitka had told me to walk that way, straight onward and soon enough I would see the castle.  Standing on the bridge, I tried to discern which was the castle, looking for something far more medieval, with stones and battlements, walls and towers.  I figured that maybe it was where the wall was, connecting upward somewhere just over the hill, outside of my view.  So I hiked up the hill, all the way to the top and found only a fake castle, made of wood and steel.  I raised my fist and cursed the gods, much to the confusion of the surrounding Russian tourists, most of whom were very excited to take the elevator on the Eiffel Tower thing to the top and get a nice view of the clouded over city of Prague.  I walked back down and seeing St. Vitus on my way back to the river, I decided to go there.  

View of the Castle from Petrin Park

That was when I discovered that the palace complex around St. Vitus was Prague Castle.  The castle must refer to the old fortress that used to be there 1200 years ago that eventually evolved into the conglomeration of palaces that began to be built in the more recent times of 500 years ago, replacing much of the older style fortifications that were destroyed in various wars and insurrections.  I found my way through the narrow passages of the Mala Strana (Small Town) district until I heard the sound of trumpets and drums playing a march.  The guards of the presidential palace were changing, marching through the courtyards of the complex to the barracks with a new set of guards having already marched in to take their place.  Staring at the men in the black uniforms who stand perfectly still, seeming to stare into oblivion, I wondered how well a man could guard like that.  But I figured it best not to test their performance in this.  

Now content with seeing the “castle”, I made my way to the Staromestske (Old Town) to wander around there and find a café and get some writing done.  There was a Coffee Costa, which is something like a Starbucks in how much it was overpriced and the general corporate feel of the decoration, in My.  The old state universal store, Mai, which during Communist times was like a mall for standard supplies that almost never ran out, had been turned into mall named My, filled with high dollar stores like Armani and Gucci.  Oh, the victories of Capitalism!  The same thing had happened in the old State Universal Store in Moscow, across from Lenin’s Mausoleum.  The new store had been nicknamed “The Galleries of Price”, since during the ‘90s few could actually afford what was being sold there.  

Old Town

That night there was a party at the flat.  Each week, they had a documentary night, where each of the people of their documentary club made a vote on which film to watch.  Some twenty people show up every time, eat, drink and watch together.  Afterwards, they have a discussion and go for a walk or something else cultural.  This week, I played accordion while everyone gathered and ate some appetizers.  Then we moved into a room and watched on a projector the documentary, Bogota Change.  The movie was about how two mayors turned Bogota from a crime infested cesspool of a city that was somewhat safe, clean and filled with parks and public transit.  

One of the girls at the party, a Czech with blonde dreadlocks, had spent a month in Columbia and shared with us her experience there.  “It is a nice city, though Medellin is so much nicer, it’s a beautiful city.  But Medellin is smaller too, so it was easier to get progressive change, I think,” she told us.  They talked some about how they could change things in Prague.  Though Prague is already clean and beautiful, with a low crime rate and with a well functioning metro and tramway system, and has easy access to recycling, so I couldn’t really see a source for real needed change.  For the most part, it seems like the youth would appreciate more bicycle lanes, as the roads are overcrowded with cars and are nearly impossible to bicycle on.  Though it’s beyond me why roads are overcrowded, given the easy availability of transit, so maybe bicycle lanes would help to reduce some of the traffic problem, though for a time increasing it. 

We went on and walked to another castle in Prague, this one with the walls and fortification systems that I imagine castles should have in order to be called a castle.  The castle stands south of downtown, along the river bank.  We were there at night, looking out across the city at all the lights, shining up into the clouds, lighting them up across the sky.  I spent most of my time talking with the girl with the dreadlocks, another Jitka.  I realized, about an hour into it, that probably she wasn’t too interested in hearing my long schpiel on economics and how the situation is a bit more complicated than most people understand.   “If I wasn’t interested, then I just wouldn’t continue the conversation,” she told me when I apologized for being so long winded on the subject. 

“So where are you living?” she asked. 

“Not anywhere, really.  Just traveling.”

“It doesn’t get lonely?” 

“I suppose it does, from time to time.  That’s life though.  But I’m less lonely traveling, I think.  At least I don’t think about it.”