Prague, day three: Don Piccolo Timmy sends his regards

Prague, Czech Republic

Our third day in the Czech capital begun with people watching, though 'watching' may need some adjective like 'engrossed' as we couldn't look away. The first was a young boy who had just got the hang of staying upright bipedally: led by his parents and a large dog, he pointed to us and frowned dramatically as we passed them. His finger and disapproving gaze followed us down the road, and we decided he would grow up to become an excellent mob boss. The second bout of people watching occurred at the tram stop when a persistent wasp hounded a couple and their daughter. The girl's shrill laughter complemented their exaggerated batting gestures and wide-eyed escape attempts, making the whole scene look like a farcical play. 

The day took a turn towards building watching when we locked eyes on the Municipal House, an elaborate art nouveau piece that commands the attention of all who pass by. Completed in 1912, it was a collaboration of thirty of the most prominent artists of the time, and houses a restaurant, café and several halls used for concert venues. It seems that most tourist attractions in the Czech Republic require a guided tour to explore properly, and that is also true for the Munucipal House. Luckily, the eateries inside allow visitors some spectacular views for free. 

The Americky Bar in the basement was wood-panelled and brooding, contrasting the well-lit café on the ground floor. 

The staircases leading down to the bar area were flourished with gold and ladybirds. I felt quite underdressed in jean shorts and jandals! Our own tour completed, we ducked into a sumptuous church but had to leave quickly as mass had commenced and a sign was displayed warning "Stop, tourists!"

Finding the sound of Czech food even more unappealing than German cuisine (too many meats and dumplings for our taste), we opted for the Mediterranean flavours of Alforno. Our eccentric waiter brought out huge plates of pizza bursting with ripe tomatoes, fresh basil and rocket, and hot cheese. To accompany the meal, we were given focaccia baked fresh that day and the most virginal of olive oils. 

Asking for the dessert menu, we received a large stamp over our brown paper placemats. A novel idea, and one that I like very much. The placemats gave the tables a rustic look when accompanied by the gingham fabric napkin bound with straw-like string and a decorative farfalle pasta. Tiramisu was chosen by all, as was our new obsession: Czech lemonades. We ordered classic lemon, raspberry, and blackberry, which all together made for a colourful photograph. 

Another oddity about Czech attractions is the frequent need for a photo license. In other countries I've entered, when you visit a museum you either are not allowed to take photos or you are (without flash of course - never flash). In the Czech Republic, often you can take photos if you pay more for a sticker you affix to your lapel. At the Prague City Museum, we neglected to purchase one as we didn't know we were supposed to, which was a mistake as there were so many amazing things inside. 

Above you can see the 1:480 scale model of the city created by Antonín Langweil between 1826 and 1834. The model was the size of a car, and it was fascinating to point out the sights we had seen around the city. Some famous buildings were still shown as being under construction, such as the Saint Vitus Cathedral poking out the top of Prague Castle. 

You may be wondering how I acquired his photo when I didn't have a photo license. Well, the lady who sits around making sure people don't break stuff was very nice and said that we could take one photo. I wonder if she does that with everyone just to put them under pressure. 

Very sneakily I snapped this shot of a nearly full skeleton from an excavation of barbarian tribes that lived in the area centuries ago. The atmosphere is the room was eerie, and I got a huge fright when Yannick whispered my name from another room through a small gap in the wall. 

After being weirded out in the Museum of Communism (see my post on it here), we went to Wenceslas Square to see where Jan Palach committed suicide to protest the regime and to admire the surrounding buildings. 

We had arrived just as a basketball game was starting! A temporary half court stadium had been set up and we expected that a concert would be playing there, but then we saw the players warming up. They weren't university teams as I initially thought, but two Eastern European teams - and they were good. 

At the apex of the square stood a regal Wenceslas I (Václav in Czech), who was duke of Bohemia in the tenth century. He was murdered, possibly by his brother Boleslav the Cruel, and martyred. The popular Christmas song Good King Wenceslas is based off his kindness towards those less fortunate than him. To me, he shall henceforth be known as Good Guy Václav.