"A historical Disneyland"

This term is frequently used to describe Prague and, even after only a short stay, I can fully understand it to be justified. However, at times I also perceive it as a city too caught up in the past the past and struggling to move into the present.

The tourist industry is massive. Wandering through the main streets, I could hear a lot of people speaking English and other non-native languages. Little booths advertising and selling tickets for tours of all variety litter the pavement. Currency exchanges and shops offering a huge range of visitor services are taking over large segments of property. With one glance at the city map, it’s easy to see the “H” symbol for hotels is a dominating force across the local landscape, with the little house symbolising hostels a close second. And even in one of the coldest European winters for a long time, the historical hotspots are still bustling.

But what I don’t like is when the whole concept of tourism is blown out of proportion. Personally, I find it quite overwhelming and unnerving. A good example is when I walked to one of Prague’s numerous formerly charming old town squares, where a Christmas market was in full swing. But why formerly charming? Because everything has been completely commercialised. Cheesy festive tunes, which reminded me of working in a local supermarket last Christmas, droned out in the background and there were more foreign customers than Czechs. When a place’s traditional heritage is distorted in such a way I find it incredibly distasteful and dissatisfying. I suppose this is one consequence of visiting such well-known destinations: you will not be able to escape this manipulation and exploitation of what would be perfectly pleasant attractions if left untouched.

It is, of course, a beautiful city in its own right. There are many points where you can find wonderful views of the famous imposing Gothic architecture, during both day and night. Prague Castle and the Charles Bridge look even more impressive after dark. Even after lugging around my enormous backpack for a day, I still found the strength to clamber up what must have been at least 200 steps to Prague’s strange giant metronome, which appeared to be non-operational. There was hardly a soul to be seen at the top, but the sights were spectacular. I spent nearly an hour sitting peacefully, both to rest my aching back and enjoy watching the world go by from such an excellent position.

Later that evening I eventually found my way to the Strossomayo Nameste, where I was supposed to be meeting the friend of a friend’s friend I would be staying with. He was due back in town at midnight but had given me directions on where to wait, mentioning a “nonstop” bar near the local KFC. Having arrived in the area quite early, I decided to check places out; it was interesting to discover a comparative small amount of what I would call traditional pubs and bars compared to the number of small, dimly lit “hernas”, which were full of gambling machines with the actual bar a side distraction. This is the exact opposite of English establishments, which have some such equipment but the main focus on drinking. Which is better? Both are crippling vices, I’m struggling to answer this question – it’s like trying to pick the lesser of two evils.

When I found a suitable location, an actual pub rather than gambling den, I was about to settle down for a few hours’ solitary contemplation when I had a text message from my generous host George, who was coming in earlier than expected. This was a great relief and later we actually discovered the place closed at 11, so it was fortunate he’d turned up when he did. What wasn’t so fortunate was that he lives in a shared loft apartment, so that was another five flights of steps for me to haul the backpack up. However, it was definitely a worthwhile investment, since his part of the house was incredibly pleasant and comfortable.

The next day I decided I wanted to avoid Prague’s buzzing hive of tourism in the centre, so opted for a few less well-known places on recommendation of George. First was supposed to be the TV Tower, but after stepping on the number five tram which would take me there, I realised it was just about the worst possible day for such an activity. The skies were misty and foggy, so any aerial views over the city would have been obscure at best. When I found the tower, I couldn’t actually see the top, so decided instead to have a walk around that part of town and discover what Prague was really like.

Answers leapt at me from all angles as I rambled through the winding streets. For a start, there was absolutely no sign of tourism and hardly any shops at all. It must have been a residential area, but it was a cold day so there weren’t many people out and about; this was actually quite refreshing after the mayhem of Monday. Walls and doors were decorated with graffiti and some buildings looking quite dilapidated. They weren’t quite to the level of a few I saw in Vilnius, but compared to the glossy sightseeing areas this was very different indeed.

After a while I stumbled upon a small football stadium, belonging to FK Viktoria Žižkov – a second division team. Groups of young people were dotted about the surrounding area; this is obviously one of the places 13-year-old smokers can escape detection. Litter was strewn everywhere and, to my surprise, the stadium gates were open. I walked inside fearlessly and had a look around. It was all pretty spooky, with row upon row of empty seats and the stands overlooked by buildings that almost seemed to be crumbling before my very eyes. The four sets of floodlights on their tall masts, which were how I’d detected the stadium’s presence, towered above me looking like bizarre insect creatures with closed eyes and devoid of life. Silence permeated the air.

Continuing the idea of this “real” tour of Prague, I walked from the stadium in the direction of the centre through a series of more plain streets. On one side of the road these were flanked by sections of grim wasteland, full of assorted litter and debris. Empty wine bottles, a smashed computer monitor and shoes were all to be found amongst the weeds and long grass sprouting from dull brown turf, soft underfoot. When I reached the perimeter of broken, rusty fences there were good views of Prague’s central railway station, which I would be using the next evening.

In the middle of this area I unexpectedly discovered a tennis club, with several clay courts in a state of winter maintenance and the site empty. Planks of wood, tables and umbrellas were lying around, along with a blue paddling pool full of dead leaves and dirty water, but I had the impression this would be a nice place in the summers.

St. Wenceslas Square, where I had planned to end up, was like being thrust into another world. The area was full of people taking pictures, shopping and generally having a good time. But I don’t believe these tourists were actually experiencing anything worthwhile. Yes, they are seeing the history, which I don’t have a problem with, but they are not discovering what it’s like to live in Prague, to be part of the city itself. My morning excursion was only a mere snapshot into this other dimension, but I still found it more interesting than visiting the attractions.

The next day, my last in the city, I was relieved to see clearer weather conditions and decided to go up the TV Tower. I took the tram again, after buying a ticket for 14 Crowns (about 30p, much cheaper than London transport), and got out to find the site again pretty much deserted. The tower’s design is trying to be artistic, with sculptured miniature babies crawling up it. But I suppose that’s more interesting than just having a plain cylindrical structure like most others do. When I reached the top there was hardly anyone there, but I didn’t understand why. Vistas stretched as far as the eye can see; I always love watching what’s going on with a bird’s-eye view.

When I got back to the apartment on the night of my departure, I was quite shocked to discover that George had that day purchased a large number of children’s toys, including ten remote-control cars. He said it was part of his occupation as a party organiser; this week he’s doing one for the employees of a major bank and is planning to give them a “chill out session”, in which they can play with the toys and relive the joys of childhood. He was predicting the virtual snowboarding game to be a big success: “When they have drunk a bit it could be very funny.” Now that’s a cool job.

So this is the end of my two-day break, but the real adventure starts now. I won’t fly again until January; trains will be the method of transport and I hope it all runs smoothly. The first is this evening, a night service to Stuttgart. Tomorrow I will take one from there to Basel and then onto Geneva. I’m also getting back to business, attending a meeting and a conference until the end of next week.