Touring Europe: Prague.
What do I remember most about Prague? It was hot, reminding me a little of home. The city was a maze of narrow, curvy roads, and the most spectacular bridges. And people. Lots of people.
Kristen and I traveled separate from the pack that day, just the two of us and a map of the city. If it wasn't obvious from our previous stops abroad, that was the way we liked it. On this particularly sunny day in mid-July, we had the whole twelve hours to meander—and meander we did.
Which I'll get to. But first, there was the castle!
Our walk around Prague Castle took place the evening before, when we first arrived in the Czech Republic via coach. It's located at the tip top of the city, next to the gorgeous St. Vitus Cathedral and a neighborhood Starbucks. Naturally. (Whoever came up with that idea is a genius.) We weren't able to peek inside, but that didn't matter much to me at the time. It was early evening by this point, and my stomach was crying out for dinner.
On our way down, we were told to find the Boy With the Golden Penis, and touch it for good luck. Which, if you ask me, has to be some kind of joke, because really... if you're touring the beautiful city of Prague, you've obviously already got luck on your side. (My guess is that the locals just like to get a good laugh at the gullible tourists who believe in lucky genitalia.) Nevertheless, as we were not willing to be the only two fools to scoff at tradition, we both gave it a good pat and continued happily—albeit hungrily—down the hill.
I only remember bits and pieces of our night after that. Images in my mind's eye of Charles Bridge, Old Town Square, colorful love locks, and John Lennon's wall of graffiti. But it wasn't until the next morning that we discovered what really makes Prague special.
1.) The Old Jewish Cemetery. I have a rather odd obsession with cemeteries, so for me, visiting this beautiful and very historical graveyard was quite a treat. It was founded in the 15th century and has more than twenty thousand gravestones. Walking through, I couldn't help but imagine what kind of lives the people buried there had once lived, and how different our lives might look to them now.
2.) Goulash in bread bowls and iced apple cider. Come lunch time, Kristen used her detective skills to locate a quaint restaurant off the beaten path where we could rest our feet and refuel—away from the crowds. Even though we were nice and sweaty from all of the walking, we couldn't pass up Prague's signature dish, a delicious meat and vegetable stew that has one heck of a name. Say it with me, folks: GOO-lash. Even better, ours were served in the heartiest bread bowls I've ever had the pleasure of devouring. Meanwhile, to top it all off, I was pleasantly surprised to find that that the Kingswood ciders we ordered were filled with bite-size chunks of ice! This is a rare luxury in Europe, and after being in the heat for hours, it floated over our tongues like a refreshing cloud.
3.) While we're on the subject of food, the Czech are known for their Trdelnik (Slovak cake). It is a cinnamon-sugar pastry cooked over open-fire and sold by street vendors, and it's mighty delicious. Sort of like our cupcake trailers, but better.
4.) Around midday, on one of our "sit and chat" breaks, we heard the most angelic music coming from a nearby church. Everyone knows that curiosity is key when traveling, so we wandered inside to see hear for ourselves what the lovely commotion was all about. In the middle of the church (to this day I still don't know what it was called) was a choir of about twenty people, encircled by rows and rows of happy onlookers. We sat in two empty chairs and listened for about half an hour, completely in awe of the performers, full of passion and purpose. As universal, and even ordinary, as this experience may seem, it is the clearest of my memories from the day.
5.) The Clementinum. This was by far my favorite place to explore in Prague, partly because it was by accident that we stumbled upon all of its treasures. Sort of a funny story, too. Months before our trip abroad, I had pinned this photo of Prague's Baroque Library, in hopes that I would one day scan its remarkable shelves. The night before we were set to arrive, I showed the pin to Kristen on a whim, not at all expecting to make it there without transportation or Google maps. But that fiery-haired friend of mine was determined! Luckily, it happened to be in a central location, close enough to walk from the square. (Gotta love Europe.) With one kind man's help and a tourist map to guide us, we arrived at The Clementinum, the home of the Chapel of Mirrors, the Baroque Library, and the Astronomical Tower. All of which were beyond beautiful. I can't remember if cameras were prohibited or if I was just too enamored to care, but the only photographs I captured were of the breathtaking views from the top of the tower. I must say, what a way to cap off our stay in Prague.
But I can't end our story just yet... This picturesque café is where we ate our last meal in Prague, amidst freshwater fountains and a garden of flowers. Can you imagine a prettier scene?
State of grace.
The best days of our lives have a way of coming and going faster than all the rest. Last Friday, the start of Easter weekend, was the first great day I've had in a long time, and—like most good things—it escaped from my grasp before I could really take it all in. Scott and I drove the three hours from Houston to Rayne in the afternoon, arriving to find my parents and older brothers already making themselves comfortable in our brand new house.
It's amazing how any place on Earth can feel like home when you're surrounded by people you love.
But this place, more than any other, reminded me of home. A house made of tin, on a pond in the middle of nowhere, with a giant dining room table and windows all around. Home. Our fortress of solitude. I felt it when I walked in the door. And then again when I spotted the Easter decorations on the counter. And many more times as the weekend wore on.
Sitting on the porch swing with my dad before dinner, conversation interspersed with quiet thought, the sun slowly taking its leave to make room for a big, red moon. Catching fish on the dock with jelly beans, sandwiched between brother and husband-to-be. A home cooked meal served by my tireless mother, a space set at the table for each of us. Bottles of wine emptied slowly, and water gulped from mason jars. Good old fashioned board games played until the onset of heavy eyelids. Crawling under the covers and drifting off to sleep, silent prayers dissolving into dreams.
And just like that, the day was gone. But even now, it is everything.
And just like that, the day was gone. But even now, it is everything.
I can't really describe the kind of peace that comes with being home, wherever that may be.
On a porch swing while the sun sets, nose-deep in a good book at midnight, on a stage in front of hundreds of strangers, wrapped in a lover's arms. It may look different to different people, but the feeling remains the same. The joy is pure, childlike. Just a moment in time that makes you feel whole. Safe. Like everything is going to work out.
And this fullness of life made me want to cry tears of relief. That after so many months of searching for something I could never quite put my finger on, it found me where I least expected it.
In a house made of tin, on a field in the middle of nowhere. There was my state of grace.
Move along.
So much time has passed since I last wrote something. Like, really wrote something. I post photos occasionally to update the blog, or jot down a few words in my journal every now and again. But I find that I'm writing less and less these days. It's hard to figure out where to go with my words. The inspiration wanes.
And photography, another long lost love. I used to practice so often, bring my DSLR everywhere. It was never so much a honed skill or business venture as it was a hobby, but I loved experimenting anyway. Now I take portraits of friends when asked, continue to snap away at big family events as if it's expected. But where did the passion go? Exhilaration with every click of the shutter. I don't care how many likes I get, Instagram is no replacement for the real thing.
If I could sit in a coffee shop and read all day, I think I would. I've been dying to get my hands on some good old fashioned Fitzgerald. The Beautiful and Damned is next on my list. But I don't. Instead, the free hours of my days are spent watching television or mindlessly perusing social media sites. (Pinterest, I'm looking at you.) A huge time-suck, with nothing to show for it.
I've taken up yoga though, and for that, I am proud. Two or three times a week, I make my way to Washington Avenue for a class that leaves me sore the next morning. But still, something is off. Or maybe just missing. What am I waiting for, exactly?
The days are too short, the minutes too fast. By the time the clock strikes 5:00pm, I'm exhausted. Desk jobs, am I right? Soul-crushing. Even cooking dinner, an opportune hour for creativity, is too arduous a task for this zombie.
Is this adulthood? I don't think I'm made for it.
I keep telling myself how lucky I am. Because I am. Truly, I am. The people in my life hold me together and make it all worth it. But it's on Wednesdays like this one—when I'd sooner swap places with almost anyone than choose a forever of this—that nothing feels further from the truth.
Oh look, it's raining.
And photography, another long lost love. I used to practice so often, bring my DSLR everywhere. It was never so much a honed skill or business venture as it was a hobby, but I loved experimenting anyway. Now I take portraits of friends when asked, continue to snap away at big family events as if it's expected. But where did the passion go? Exhilaration with every click of the shutter. I don't care how many likes I get, Instagram is no replacement for the real thing.
If I could sit in a coffee shop and read all day, I think I would. I've been dying to get my hands on some good old fashioned Fitzgerald. The Beautiful and Damned is next on my list. But I don't. Instead, the free hours of my days are spent watching television or mindlessly perusing social media sites. (Pinterest, I'm looking at you.) A huge time-suck, with nothing to show for it.
I've taken up yoga though, and for that, I am proud. Two or three times a week, I make my way to Washington Avenue for a class that leaves me sore the next morning. But still, something is off. Or maybe just missing. What am I waiting for, exactly?
The days are too short, the minutes too fast. By the time the clock strikes 5:00pm, I'm exhausted. Desk jobs, am I right? Soul-crushing. Even cooking dinner, an opportune hour for creativity, is too arduous a task for this zombie.
Is this adulthood? I don't think I'm made for it.
I keep telling myself how lucky I am. Because I am. Truly, I am. The people in my life hold me together and make it all worth it. But it's on Wednesdays like this one—when I'd sooner swap places with almost anyone than choose a forever of this—that nothing feels further from the truth.
Oh look, it's raining.
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