It was my last day in Prague, so I knew I needed to make it count. I started my day off with one last journey across the Charles Bridge (and because it was after ten in the morning, it was packed with tourists). As kitsch as they are, I went into a gift shop, because I never really feel quite right leaving a place without some kind of souvenir for people at home. I met up with Erika, and we took one last trip to Bohemia Bagel, where we met Christine and her friend Amy who’s visiting for the weekend. As we walked back through Old Town Square, we smelled the sausages and ham cooking, and I couldn’t resist. I bought a real Czech sausage, and on the way home bought a Krusicov pivo cerne. I felt so manly!
I will admit, I am a history buff. I’m sure my dad is beaming reading this, and it’s true. At the beginning of my stay I bought a book about the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, the governor of Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia and a ruthless SS dictator. The Czech government-in-exile organized and trained resistance fighters to kill Heydrich. They succeeded, but with a high cost to themselves, and the retaliation was brutal. The resistance fighters made their last stand at the Church of St. Cyril and St. Methodius, where after two hours of fighting, they took their own lives in the crypt.
The church still stands, and has been turned into a museum about Heydrich’s assassination, and includes a memorial to the soldiers killed. I had not yet made it to see the church, and I knew I would kick myself if I didn’t go. I went by myself. The museum itself is small- it only occupies the antechamber to the crypt. There are six or seven placards detailing the events from the Munich Accords, to the appointment of Heydrich as Protector, to the actual planning by the exiled president, Edvard Benes, and the assassination itself and the bloody aftermath. After having read the very detailed book, there was nothing particularly illuminating from the information, but the crypt was like nothing else I’d experienced.
To begin with, the crypt was very cold. I was the only one there, which was spooky in and of itself, and to boot, I had to close the door behind me, so I was completely alone with imagined Nazi-ghosts standing outside, forcing a hose through the window, and the stench of blood in the air. I could hardly force myself to take a step into the crypt proper, but it also wouldn’t feel right just leaving. So I put my over-active imagination on hold and stepped in. The crypt was never repaired after the battle there, and so there are sections of stone missing, and the (burial tombs) go on into darkness. I got chills, and not just from the cold. I have never believed in ghosts, and I don’t at all claim to have seen anything non-corporeal in the crypt. But there was a feeling I can hardly describe. The violence of the events that took place there seemed to linger, and even though it has become a source of pride for the Czechs, there was something...wrong… about it.
I had to go back out into the sunlight which helped cut the chill. I had stepped back into the real world, where I was safe. No ghosts would follow me out.
Our last meal together helped to lighten my mood. Amy had a heard of a beer hall she wanted to try, so we set out for dinner. We arrived at U Flecku, a busy beer hall. They serve only their own home-brewed dark beer, which they bring to the table like water, and mark down on a card how many you’ve had. They only served traditional Czech fare. I had to order the goulash, and it was delicious, served with bread dumplings and speck dumplings. The food was delicious, and the company even better. When we thought we couldn’t enjoy ourselves more, a man with an accordion and his friend with a tube came in and began to play. Everyone applauded as they entered, and began singing along. We had no idea what songs they were playing, but we found ourselves clapping and humming along to a tune we hardly knew. Between the beer, the food, the music and the crowd, it was a great way to end my trip in Prague.
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