Vysehrad

The 1,100-year-old fort of Vysehrad sits about 700 feet above the busy streets of Prague. We determined it was a little over a mile from the flat, so our intrepid group set off for a close-to-home expedition.  Up to this point in our visit to the Czech Republic, we’ve used the cheap, reliable public transportation to get around, but today we wanted to get a better feel for the streets around the neighborhood, so we hoofed it using an oft-folded tourist map as our guide.  The blessings of beautiful weather have been bestowed upon us since we’ve been in Prague, and another generous portion was given to us this day.  High soft clouds barely smudged the canopy of deep blue sky. Walking under the sun’s rays provided cozy warmth but strolling in the shade of the tall buildings gave a slight chill for which a light jacket was the perfect remedy.

The streets in Prague commonly change names every couple of blocks, so we had to keep consulting the map to make sure we were on the right track to the fort, but we had the luxury of time and nowhere else in the world to be on a nice afternoon.  Somehow we got a bit off track and ended up walking some of the way on a trail through a park that ran parallel to the main street, a bit of serendipity that we didn't mind.  As we got closer to Vysehrad, we could see the towering ramparts of the old fort in the near distance, and our heartbeats quickened as the street began to rise.  There are camps of historians that contend Vysehrad was the original settlement of Prague while others maintain that the city emerged from the area around the castle on the other side of the river.  Details get a little hazy after 1,100 years, so maybe all the smart guys can settle things with an arm-wrestling match.

The grounds of Vysehrad occupy the entire ninety-acre hilltop beside the Vltava river, and the majority of the area has been converted to a park that includes a walking path around the perimeter of the ramparts.  The old basilica of St. Peter and St. Paul with its twin spires sits at the back of the grounds right beside the historic cemetery that holds the graves of many Czech natives dear to the people such as Bedrich Smetana and Antonin Dvorak.  The cemetery was completely engaging, and we spent the better part of an hour walking among the graves.  Deveny particularly enjoyed our time here as many of the markers were individual works of art with sculpture vignettes and busts of the departed presiding over the graves.  She asked if we could return to the cemetery at night, and I offered some lame excuse that the park would surely close before nightfall, disguising my fear of sitting in an ancient eastern European cemetery in the dark when the vampires come out.  We found the resting place of Bedrich Smetana, the world-renowned composer of "The Moldau", and took several pictures of the obelisks marking his grave.  The two flanking obelisks are affixed with plaques engraved with a run of notes on a single measure of music, and I purposed to find their origin later that evening.

Basilica

Smetana's Grave

All Along the Watchtower

After walking the grounds of the basilica for a while, we spent the rest of our time at Vysehrad walking the ramparts and taking in the lofty views of Prague from a perspective we hadn’t yet seen, eventually resting for a while on benches and talking about our adventures so far.  By the time we were ready to leave, the shadows from the chestnut trees were long on the grassy lawns. We began our descent from Vysehrad headed to a coffee shop we had noted on the way up.  Anna, the cheerful proprietor of the shop, enjoyed using her English skills to describe the goods on display that she had baked earlier in the day.  We enjoyed raspberry cheesecake, pumpkin bread, and cranberry muffins while sitting on a comfy sofa near a window looking out to the street.  Petr, the barista, made a cafe americano for me, and I watched with admiration as he perfectly pressed fresh grounds into a cup of steaming espresso.  At the table I added hot water and sugar to the cup and entered a dreamscape that can only be understood by lovers of this most excellent hot beverage.

We stopped in a few shops on our way back to the flat taking our time, pleased with our decision to stay in the neighborhood today and cooked up a big spaghetti supper when we got back home.  Later I spent some time researching the bar of music from Smetana’s grave, and I was dismayed by the absence of information.  I had my suspicions though, so I pulled up the score of "The Moldau" and compared the notes from the first measure to the one on the grave marker—a perfect match.  The piece opens with flutes playing to create images of the flowing Vltava, and I liked that one of the Czech Republic’s favorite sons now rests overlooking the river he portrayed so beautifully in music.