Back to Prague

Once I was going to be spending this spring in Bratislava, I knew I was going to go back to Prague at some point. What I didn't know was how I was going to feel about it. My time in Prague was hard, and it ended "not with a bang, but a whimper". An abrupt whimper, but a whimper nonetheless. I wasn't sure how I was going to reconcile my admittedly mixed memories of life in Prague with the reality of actually being there again. So when I boarded the bus in Bratislava on Friday afternoon, I was excited, but also a little apprehensive of the possible range of emotions the next several days were going to throw at me.

But when I emerged from the Metro out onto Namesti Miru, it was like I had never left. Everything was exactly as I remembered it. The only thing different was the layout of the street crossing, a project they had been in the middle of 5 months ago. As I walked up the street towards both my current hostel and my former flat, I was living in deja vu. It felt so right, but completely wrong at the same time.


After checking in and finding a bed, I reorganized my bags and fairly ran out the door. I wanted, maybe needed, to go back to Havlickovy Sady, back to my park, in order to reset myself in this city. Once there, I reveled in it's separate-ness. When you're there, it's like the rest of the city doesn't exist. This is something that Bratislava doesn't have, in really any form. There's nowhere you can go, and just forget where you are. The parks are lovely, but are lined with buildings and fences. The canal through Petrzalka is nice, and the lake is a pleasant surprise, but there's no escaping the fact that you are in the middle of Petrzalka. There's no way to break out of the pattern of the city. It was rejuvenating, and exactly what I needed.


Following my sojourn into the forest wonderland, I went over to a friend's flat for dinner. My Prague friends were always the best part of living here, and seeing them again was wonderful. We caught each other up on our lives, ate delicious soup, and I laughed more than I have in a long time.
   
On Saturday I went for a wander around the city, beginning with breakfast in Namesti Miru, watching the spires of the church gradually come into focus as the morning fog burned off. One of the many advantages of visiting a city you're already quite familiar with is that the level of guesswork as to which route to take in order to see everything you want to see is greatly reduced. Wanting to start at the castle, and work my way back to Vinohrady, I took the Metro to Malostranska, and climbed the stairs up to the level of the castle, shedding my cardigan, jacket, and scarf along the way. The sun was bright and hot, but had not yet reached the lower, more crowded parts of the city, so the distant landmarks were shrouded in mist. After wandering around the castle grounds and discovering some spectacular gardens, I made my way back down the hill and back to the Charles Bridge, with a detour to the Lennon Wall. Crossing the river, I made my way to Old Town Square, inadvertently arriving on the penultimate day of the Easter markets. I walked through Namesti Republiky, past the Powder Gate, and up Wenceslas Square back to Vinohrady, where I spent a blissful hour laying out in the sun in yet another city-defying park. Throughout the day, as I revisited these places that I once was able to call part of my home, my heart ached, and I found myself thinking: "I wish I could have been happy here."


That, I think, sums up my feelings about Prague. It is a beautiful city, with myriads of opportunities, a rich history, deep cultural significance, and a future full of possibilities. I would have loved to have been able to stay. To watch the city change from fall to winter, and from winter to spring. I would have loved getting to know her more, to recognize and appreciate her quirks, but it wasn't in the cards for me. For many reasons, Prague was not going to make me happy last fall, and forcing the point would not have been wise. It's possible that we'll get a second chance at some point, but I don't see that happening in the near future.


This visit to Prague was bittersweet. I love this city. It has vibrance, and color, life, history, pride, and some pretty great people. Being back on the familiar streets was wonderful, but it also made me sad because it no longer belongs to me. Or rather, I no longer belong to it. I'm the one with the backpack going to a hostel, not unlocking the door to a flat. I'm the one who has to buy Metro tickets because I don't have a pass. Obviously, I've done my fair share of tourist-ing, but I've never been a tourist somewhere I've lived. I suspect I'll have a similar reaction when I go back to Olaf. With so many memories tied up in these places, it's hard to be just another visitor.

The only language that seems appropriate to describe my feelings about my visit are relationship-centric, which I guess is appropriate. You can't live somewhere and not have a relationship with it, even if it's not the same as having a relationship with an actual person.

Prague is my one that got away. We tried, it didn't work, and we parted on relatively good terms. We both moved on. But there will always be a question mark surrounding the possibility of what could have been. What if we had tried harder? Could things have been different?

Whatever ends up happening, I am so blessed to have had the time that I did there. I met some wonderful people, grew a tremendous amount, and learned things about myself I could not have anywhere else. I once called Prague home. And even if I never do again, that will be enough.