Only one thing was on my plan for the day -- to spend some time in the afternoon with a young Czech friend/colleague. Then, as is usual in "my" Prague, something totally unexpected and wonderful happened, and I received yet another gift to share with you.
I don't even remember how our friendship began. I just know that it has grown and we both look forward to times we spend together. Usually those times are wonderfully sedentary :-) We meet at the tram stop and walk to a lovely little non-smoking cukrarna (sweets shop), have a cup of tea and talk away. And I will admit these sit-down chats have been happening since I hurt my ankle, so it is pretty logical and well as fun.
Somehow the usual became the unusual. When I said I'd enjoy walking with her -- she is totally devoted to a-walk-a-day! -- Radka asked if I'd been to Petrin. Well, yes, I had. A wonderful excursion with Dasa and Thomas this summer. We rode the funicular, enjoyed the wonders of the observatory, walked through the parks, ate at the marvelous restaurant, and all in all had a spectacular day.
It seems that's not all there is to Petrin, and it wasn't the part Radka had in mind. Although I'd ridden by another section on my way home from class several times, I had never realized it was part of a much larger whole. Petrin Hill is an enormous historic, green, public place, the highest elevation of Prague's seven hills (1040+ feet) and is made up of eight parks and orchards. (If I've made you a bit curious, a search for "Petrin Hill" will give you lots more information and some beautiful pictures on the various websites.) Originally the quarry for many of Prague's historic buildings, it has been a public park since 1825.
Two notable sites on the Hill -- centuries apart in their ages -- which continuously draw my attention are the Hunger Wall and the Monument to the victims of Communism.
The first was built under Charles IV in 1360-62, called "Hunger Wall" because in addition to being a fortification, it was to provide work during a famine. It can be seen from a great distance, a dividing line running right up the hill and beyond, 8 metres high, with 1,200 metres of the original length remaining. Several bastions still remain, as does some of the inner walkway with platforms for marksmen. Undoubtedly it was a strategic act, and it protected the west and south of the city so it could grow for several hundred years. But it also provided food for the families of those working on its construction.
The second, more moving scene, is the memorial to the victims of communism, erected twelve years after the era ended for the Czech Republic. It is deceptively and hauntingly simple -- seven figures are in differing positions on a flight of oversized stairs, their bodies in various states of decay. There is a metal ribbon running up the center of the stairs which tallies the known number of victims -- giant numbers for such a small nation. And a plaque reads "The memorial to the victims of communism is dedicated to all victims not only those who were jailed or executed but also those whose lives were ruined by totalitarian despotism." Always a moving sight, and always thought provoking -- how could there be people wishing (and voting) for a return?
But on to the walk -- up and around, lovely cobblestone pathways which turn back on themselves time and again because the climb is so steep. And here and there "rest stops" with inviting wooden benches, always strategically placed to see the city below or the scenic view of the hill. On the way to the top (which I never did reach :-( wisdom overcoming pride!) we passed a marvelous waterfall with its own little pond and statuary. Its sound had been calling for many steps. And of course, here the benches faced the water. We only paused, because it was getting to be evening, and we had "miles to go before. . ." our goal. After many twists and turns we finally arrived at St. Michael's, a church which had been moved board by board from the Ukraine in the late 1920's when the valley where it stood was flooded for a hydro-electric plan.
And there it was. Such a different building, so NOT baroque, so out of the ordinary. And breathtaking in its difference. As we approached, Radka commented that something was wrong. This is a favorite walk for her, so she knows what it should look like as it comes into view. I realized that the "stuff" was actually cleaning materials, boxes which had been emptied of something.
It is a small, very dark building, and it was only as we were actually on the porch, at the entryway, that we could see people inside, inviting us to join them. The magic is alive and well! We met one couple from Rumania, in Prague only a year, and a gentleman here for 18 years, all three of whom had been cleaning, opening the heaters (which will be used sparingly and without electricity to preserve the integrity of the building), and generally working to bring the room back to shape for divine services. Someone has lovingly cleaned the icons, the limited seating is waiting for people, and the accouterments of worship are appearing.
Beginning in a couple weeks, there will be services twice monthly, including one with the Metropolitan and all the orthodox priests from miles around for what I would call a (re)consecration of the building. We had a long talk with them -- I was so grateful I could share in their joy and let them know -- thank goodness they spoke English -- I could somewhat realize how important this is to them. What a milestone for them/us all. A few weeks after the services begin, they will start to have someone present so it can be open a few hours a week for visitors. No longer "permanently closed to visitors; no services held here". And we were able to share in the moments.
As we began to descend the hill, we passed them carrying boxes and materials up, apparently to a car/van somewhere at the top. What wonderful timing -- one stop on a bench and they would have been gone. We would have missed their joy, and they would not have known our appreciation of this giant step forward in their lives and the lives of others whose worlds have changed so often and so radically. Yet another miraculous moment.
You may enter a Google search for "St Michael's Petrin Hill" and come up with some great photographs. One of the best is a 360 degrees video of St. Michael's (on a site with many of the famous spires of the city -- you could certainly spend some interesting time there, I learned earlier today!) Here is a website address. The panoramic video is wonderful. I'll leave you to imagine us in the picture together, having yet another weekend experience.
Enjoy. . . . . . .
stovezata.praha.eu/en-church-of-st-michael-in-the-kinskeho-garden.html - 43k
Showing posts with label churches. Show all posts
Showing posts with label churches. Show all posts
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
A Midweek Treat
Aren't surprises lovely!
I learned some months ago that one of my students plays French horn in an orchestra here. During a quiet moment in class Monday I asked him if his June concert had already taken place. Surprise -- it was tonight. I asked just in time.
Yet another surprise -- it was held in a church in my neighborhood. I've passed the church dozens of times since it is right on my tram line. "Evangelistika" is in its name, and I'd heard that it is somewhat in a line back to Jan Hus ("his" day is a holiday here in a couple of weeks). It is not a typical Prague church. It's front/facade is almost like every other apartment building in the block, only a few religious touches set it apart, not at all like the free-standing buildings which are such a part of the city scape. (You may know that Prague is also called a City of Spires.) I've been curious but never stopped, made a special trip to learn and see more, or even considered attending a service. Tonight was the night. It is beautiful inside, lovely frescoes, a balcony around three sides of the church reminiscent of Old First in Springfield, MA and Joan Grindrod-Helm's church in Northumberland, UK. So sitting in the pew brought back wonderful memories.
And another surprise -- while sitting quietly, observing my fellow concert goers, struggling (shamefully) with the Czech program, a fine young gentleman joined me. Indeed, another of my students. He is an interesting young man, a good conversationalist, and an all-round pleasant companion. What a treat to have his company so unexpectedly. I believe he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.
The members of the orchestra were young, mostly mid-to late twenties and thirties. Some may have been in their early forties. But they definitely weren't students! The conductor also may still be waiting for his thirtieth birthday! But what lovely music they made together. His conducting was sure; they understood what he wanted and gave it to him -- all of them! What a pleasure.
And then there was the music. Ah, yes. They opened with Mendelssohn's Third Symphony, one of my favorites. It was totally satisfying. Radek had told me they were playing Dvorak, "our best composer." The second portion of the evening was the Slavonik Dances, Opus 46. I must admit my fingers were itching and twitching. And now I've heard Dvorak played and conducted by Czechs in a Czech setting, surrounded by Czechs. Their enjoyment of the music was noticeable, and it was clear these were familiar sounds to members of the audience.
I lingered a bit afterwards. By the time I'd made my way to the door, members of the orchestra were also beginning to leave. It was so pleasant to see and feel their enjoyment of the concert. I could tell they knew they had played well -- it's always such a pleasure to see others enjoy the results of their hard work. There was a sense of camaraderie and accomplishment. It was clear this was not just another "gig" and they were moving on to the next job. They'd made music because they wanted to and because it made them happy to share it. And I was one of the fortunate recipients.
But wait -- one more surprise. At the intermission I was joined by the one colleague to whom I'd mentioned the concert. The comment was rather off the cuff. I certainly did not expect him to come. And there he was. He's also a musician, a marvelous British gentleman, good teacher, fine colleague, great friend. More good conversation, more enjoyment.
What a surprising midweek treat. I can hardly wait to see and hear what's next.
I learned some months ago that one of my students plays French horn in an orchestra here. During a quiet moment in class Monday I asked him if his June concert had already taken place. Surprise -- it was tonight. I asked just in time.
Yet another surprise -- it was held in a church in my neighborhood. I've passed the church dozens of times since it is right on my tram line. "Evangelistika" is in its name, and I'd heard that it is somewhat in a line back to Jan Hus ("his" day is a holiday here in a couple of weeks). It is not a typical Prague church. It's front/facade is almost like every other apartment building in the block, only a few religious touches set it apart, not at all like the free-standing buildings which are such a part of the city scape. (You may know that Prague is also called a City of Spires.) I've been curious but never stopped, made a special trip to learn and see more, or even considered attending a service. Tonight was the night. It is beautiful inside, lovely frescoes, a balcony around three sides of the church reminiscent of Old First in Springfield, MA and Joan Grindrod-Helm's church in Northumberland, UK. So sitting in the pew brought back wonderful memories.
And another surprise -- while sitting quietly, observing my fellow concert goers, struggling (shamefully) with the Czech program, a fine young gentleman joined me. Indeed, another of my students. He is an interesting young man, a good conversationalist, and an all-round pleasant companion. What a treat to have his company so unexpectedly. I believe he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.
The members of the orchestra were young, mostly mid-to late twenties and thirties. Some may have been in their early forties. But they definitely weren't students! The conductor also may still be waiting for his thirtieth birthday! But what lovely music they made together. His conducting was sure; they understood what he wanted and gave it to him -- all of them! What a pleasure.
And then there was the music. Ah, yes. They opened with Mendelssohn's Third Symphony, one of my favorites. It was totally satisfying. Radek had told me they were playing Dvorak, "our best composer." The second portion of the evening was the Slavonik Dances, Opus 46. I must admit my fingers were itching and twitching. And now I've heard Dvorak played and conducted by Czechs in a Czech setting, surrounded by Czechs. Their enjoyment of the music was noticeable, and it was clear these were familiar sounds to members of the audience.
I lingered a bit afterwards. By the time I'd made my way to the door, members of the orchestra were also beginning to leave. It was so pleasant to see and feel their enjoyment of the concert. I could tell they knew they had played well -- it's always such a pleasure to see others enjoy the results of their hard work. There was a sense of camaraderie and accomplishment. It was clear this was not just another "gig" and they were moving on to the next job. They'd made music because they wanted to and because it made them happy to share it. And I was one of the fortunate recipients.
But wait -- one more surprise. At the intermission I was joined by the one colleague to whom I'd mentioned the concert. The comment was rather off the cuff. I certainly did not expect him to come. And there he was. He's also a musician, a marvelous British gentleman, good teacher, fine colleague, great friend. More good conversation, more enjoyment.
What a surprising midweek treat. I can hardly wait to see and hear what's next.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Making Choices
Just amazing what a simple yes or no, one question raised or left unspoken, taking the lead or following can do to change a plan. My plan for Saturday was to take it easy, work on some preparations for classes, and generally have a low-key day. My plan for Sunday was to enjoy a couple hours at the Brevnov Monastery with a few colleagues I know and some of their circle of friends.
Let's talk about Saturday's choices first. One quick "yes" turned it all around. No taking it easy, no prep for me! Mid-afternoon found me waiting at a metro escalator, supposedly to join two others to see a documentary movie about Vaclav Havel. That changed when I agreed with Barb, the first to arrive, that it would be much better to view the movie at the beautiful old theatre in a shopping center built by Havel's grandfather. The family connection and a "real" setting made sense to me. Next came agreement to go back the way she'd come to meet two of her Aussie friends she'd seen thru' a big window in a cafe. Off we trooped, scooted chairs up to a tiny table, and had a marvelous time broadening the circle of friends, learning about teaching in other countries and other great life experiences. After some time and many words we agreed to part ways and get on with the remainder of plans for the evening. That lasted just as long as it took us to walk around opposite sides of the block and meet up again. Natural choice to have dinner together at the hospada (pub with good, usually inexpensive food) that was their plan. Since some supper somewhere along the way had been in the original plan for us also, we're on track here. Great food and more good conversation.
The next good choice was to continue the evening together as we got on with our original plan to visit the Globe bookstore. Our conversation turned to old movies as we walked over the cobblestones thru' narrow streets in a old part of town, an intriguing mixture of fascinating buildings all around us
The Globe is an incredible place. The front section is the bookstore -- "Please purchase books before sitting at the table" -- where all titles are selected individually by the owner. What an incredible selection! As we entered, Anne (another colleague) asked the "kid" behind the counter if he could answer a movie question which was stumping us. He couldn't, but a voice from the second level joined the conversation, then the person joined us. It was the owner, in for the weekend from Moscow.
Michael is a bright, young Chicagoan, obviously with a gift for making money, who currently lives in Moscow and manages two hedge funds. One of his favorite places when he lived in Prague 5-6 years ago was the Globe. When it fell on very hard times and was being closed a little over a year ago, he bought it and is still restoring it. He tries to visit every month, and our choices put us there at just the right moment. First we stayed in the front, talking books, checking out titles, all the good reasons one goes to bookstores. But then there's the back section. Towering high ceilings, walls painted a gorgeous deep red to showcase fantastic modern original art, a singer who sounded a lot like Paul Simon, an eclectic mix of styles and ages. What more could you want?
There is more. You see, the Aussie are going home via Moscow (a place where I briefly considered teaching). And Michael loved talking about the city. What it's like, where to go, what to see, how much it is misrepresented. Interesting to hear his thoughts on the government, possibilities for the future. After a while he got on with business and we continued talking about anything and everything. What a night! Back to the cobblestones, a long walk to the tram, and a quiet ride home, reliving some wonderful choices.
And that is only Saturday! A few days earlier I'd made another choice -- join colleagues from St. J. and elsewhere for a visit to the Brevnov Monastery.
Sunday followed the plan. Only I had no idea how it would expand. The day could not have been more beautiful, bright sunshine, blue sky, just a hint of spring with little buds thinking about popping out. Our guide was an intern studying for her guide certification, whatever that takes, who is a student of one on the colleagues. (This time the circle of friends expanded to 15.) The Brevnov is a Benedictine monastery, begun in 993, just up the hill from the Castle! And yes, we saw the archeological excavation under the present Basilica of the original church. Can you imagine the struggle, turmoil, pain and peace that ground has seen. Our guide took us walking and climbing -- what else! -- through the grounds, orchards, old mill, on and on with wonderful commentary. Then we entered the monastery, where a young monk became our guide. Oh my, the stories, frescoes, worn steps and corridors, history both recent and long ago, pictures of the renovations after the Communist era, photos of the two monks who returned from prison to die in "their home". Even heard from a distance an organist rehearsing on the newly restored instrument for a recording tonight. What an incredible place with an insider's view.
As you may know, Benedictine monks have to raise their own financial support. This group does so thru' its hotel and restaurant. And our reservations were for 2:30. The restaurant is rustic, charming, and serves marvelous food. I'm hoping to return next Sunday for lunch, just before the free organ concert!
Brevnov is "up the hill" from the Castle. The ride back led to a stop in the "New Town" and a coffee shop very near the Museum of Music. We (the group was now down to eight) even took time to visit another well-known Baroque church on the way. (They certainly are fancy!) When I finally returned, this had become an eight hour day! And what a great one it is.
I can hardly wait to see where the next choice will lead me.
Let's talk about Saturday's choices first. One quick "yes" turned it all around. No taking it easy, no prep for me! Mid-afternoon found me waiting at a metro escalator, supposedly to join two others to see a documentary movie about Vaclav Havel. That changed when I agreed with Barb, the first to arrive, that it would be much better to view the movie at the beautiful old theatre in a shopping center built by Havel's grandfather. The family connection and a "real" setting made sense to me. Next came agreement to go back the way she'd come to meet two of her Aussie friends she'd seen thru' a big window in a cafe. Off we trooped, scooted chairs up to a tiny table, and had a marvelous time broadening the circle of friends, learning about teaching in other countries and other great life experiences. After some time and many words we agreed to part ways and get on with the remainder of plans for the evening. That lasted just as long as it took us to walk around opposite sides of the block and meet up again. Natural choice to have dinner together at the hospada (pub with good, usually inexpensive food) that was their plan. Since some supper somewhere along the way had been in the original plan for us also, we're on track here. Great food and more good conversation.
The next good choice was to continue the evening together as we got on with our original plan to visit the Globe bookstore. Our conversation turned to old movies as we walked over the cobblestones thru' narrow streets in a old part of town, an intriguing mixture of fascinating buildings all around us
The Globe is an incredible place. The front section is the bookstore -- "Please purchase books before sitting at the table" -- where all titles are selected individually by the owner. What an incredible selection! As we entered, Anne (another colleague) asked the "kid" behind the counter if he could answer a movie question which was stumping us. He couldn't, but a voice from the second level joined the conversation, then the person joined us. It was the owner, in for the weekend from Moscow.
Michael is a bright, young Chicagoan, obviously with a gift for making money, who currently lives in Moscow and manages two hedge funds. One of his favorite places when he lived in Prague 5-6 years ago was the Globe. When it fell on very hard times and was being closed a little over a year ago, he bought it and is still restoring it. He tries to visit every month, and our choices put us there at just the right moment. First we stayed in the front, talking books, checking out titles, all the good reasons one goes to bookstores. But then there's the back section. Towering high ceilings, walls painted a gorgeous deep red to showcase fantastic modern original art, a singer who sounded a lot like Paul Simon, an eclectic mix of styles and ages. What more could you want?
There is more. You see, the Aussie are going home via Moscow (a place where I briefly considered teaching). And Michael loved talking about the city. What it's like, where to go, what to see, how much it is misrepresented. Interesting to hear his thoughts on the government, possibilities for the future. After a while he got on with business and we continued talking about anything and everything. What a night! Back to the cobblestones, a long walk to the tram, and a quiet ride home, reliving some wonderful choices.
And that is only Saturday! A few days earlier I'd made another choice -- join colleagues from St. J. and elsewhere for a visit to the Brevnov Monastery.
Sunday followed the plan. Only I had no idea how it would expand. The day could not have been more beautiful, bright sunshine, blue sky, just a hint of spring with little buds thinking about popping out. Our guide was an intern studying for her guide certification, whatever that takes, who is a student of one on the colleagues. (This time the circle of friends expanded to 15.) The Brevnov is a Benedictine monastery, begun in 993, just up the hill from the Castle! And yes, we saw the archeological excavation under the present Basilica of the original church. Can you imagine the struggle, turmoil, pain and peace that ground has seen. Our guide took us walking and climbing -- what else! -- through the grounds, orchards, old mill, on and on with wonderful commentary. Then we entered the monastery, where a young monk became our guide. Oh my, the stories, frescoes, worn steps and corridors, history both recent and long ago, pictures of the renovations after the Communist era, photos of the two monks who returned from prison to die in "their home". Even heard from a distance an organist rehearsing on the newly restored instrument for a recording tonight. What an incredible place with an insider's view.
As you may know, Benedictine monks have to raise their own financial support. This group does so thru' its hotel and restaurant. And our reservations were for 2:30. The restaurant is rustic, charming, and serves marvelous food. I'm hoping to return next Sunday for lunch, just before the free organ concert!
Brevnov is "up the hill" from the Castle. The ride back led to a stop in the "New Town" and a coffee shop very near the Museum of Music. We (the group was now down to eight) even took time to visit another well-known Baroque church on the way. (They certainly are fancy!) When I finally returned, this had become an eight hour day! And what a great one it is.
I can hardly wait to see where the next choice will lead me.
Monday, February 18, 2008
76 Trombones
Well, maybe not, but certainly hundreds of instruments.
After spending weekend time getting things in order, preparing for the new week, and avoiding a really cold day, I took advantage of a lesson cancellation today to keep a promise to myself: I will visit the Museum of Music. One side note -- I tried earlier and simply could not make enough correct turns to find it. I knew from my original accidental discovery that it would be worth whatever effort another attempt required.
The Museum's new home is a very old space. It was originally the Church of St. Magdalene in the Lesser Town (same side of the river, just down the hill from The Castle, side by side by side with neighbors built in the same century -- the 17th!). It belonged to a Dominican Monastery which was closed in 1783 -- we're talking way over 100 years as a church before spending time as a post office, a police barracks, and an archive, among other things. There behind an enormous, heavy, dark old door which could be an entrance to any one of hundreds of Prague buildings is a clean 20th century renovation. Just through the swish of an electric-eye door is an enormous four-story hall with clean lines and an invitation to whisper or yell -- no middle choice there. And then, just at the next turn of a corner there are little nooks, small details which absolutely breathe church/sacred music/whispering cassocks. To stand at the first-floor railing overlooking what once must have been the "sanctuary" and nearly break a vertebrae looking up -- what an incredible view. Couldn't help but wonder what those windows must have seen, those walls must have heard.
All this is all before the instruments enter the scene. Yes, I saw Mozart's piano (or at least one of them), a krumhorn and other instruments (which were until now only organ stops/registration for me), 16 incredible flutes (teeny to huge) in only one of the display cases, two (not just one) glass harmoniums, square pianos, a giraffe piano, quarter-tone pianos, first attempts which became music makers we all recognize and those which left the scene nearly as early as they joined it. Oh my oh my. Walk and walk and walk, stop/look/listen -- there are marvelous listening posts nearly everywhere, and, more than anything, feel like such a small drop of water in the marvelous river of musical history.
About those trombones -- they and many, many other brass, woodwind, few-stringed and multiple-stringed instruments are there. And you should see the harps -- a whole room of them. By the way, the cases for some of the pianos simply defy description. Incredible woodworking!
What a way to start a week! And as I closed the door behind me I renewed my promise to return.
After spending weekend time getting things in order, preparing for the new week, and avoiding a really cold day, I took advantage of a lesson cancellation today to keep a promise to myself: I will visit the Museum of Music. One side note -- I tried earlier and simply could not make enough correct turns to find it. I knew from my original accidental discovery that it would be worth whatever effort another attempt required.
The Museum's new home is a very old space. It was originally the Church of St. Magdalene in the Lesser Town (same side of the river, just down the hill from The Castle, side by side by side with neighbors built in the same century -- the 17th!). It belonged to a Dominican Monastery which was closed in 1783 -- we're talking way over 100 years as a church before spending time as a post office, a police barracks, and an archive, among other things. There behind an enormous, heavy, dark old door which could be an entrance to any one of hundreds of Prague buildings is a clean 20th century renovation. Just through the swish of an electric-eye door is an enormous four-story hall with clean lines and an invitation to whisper or yell -- no middle choice there. And then, just at the next turn of a corner there are little nooks, small details which absolutely breathe church/sacred music/whispering cassocks. To stand at the first-floor railing overlooking what once must have been the "sanctuary" and nearly break a vertebrae looking up -- what an incredible view. Couldn't help but wonder what those windows must have seen, those walls must have heard.
All this is all before the instruments enter the scene. Yes, I saw Mozart's piano (or at least one of them), a krumhorn and other instruments (which were until now only organ stops/registration for me), 16 incredible flutes (teeny to huge) in only one of the display cases, two (not just one) glass harmoniums, square pianos, a giraffe piano, quarter-tone pianos, first attempts which became music makers we all recognize and those which left the scene nearly as early as they joined it. Oh my oh my. Walk and walk and walk, stop/look/listen -- there are marvelous listening posts nearly everywhere, and, more than anything, feel like such a small drop of water in the marvelous river of musical history.
About those trombones -- they and many, many other brass, woodwind, few-stringed and multiple-stringed instruments are there. And you should see the harps -- a whole room of them. By the way, the cases for some of the pianos simply defy description. Incredible woodworking!
What a way to start a week! And as I closed the door behind me I renewed my promise to return.
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