Ad hoc

If you thought the Americans had the world cornered when it comes to advertising, think again. The hundreds of historic buildings in Europe are regularly clouded by scaffolding for touch-ups and repaired. When that happens, ads aren’t far behind. In Zagreb, scaffolding in the main square was dominated by two huge advertisements (see photo below) – which weren’t that out of character for the square, which boasted dozens of other electronic billboards atop the various historic buildings.

In Prague, the Charles Bridge is one of the dominant tourist attractions. At the foot of the bridge rests a huge statue of King Charles IV, the most famous monarch of the Czech lands. Directly behind him (photo below) is a huge ad for Pilsner-Urquell, one of the country’s two dominant brands of beer. The ad directly connects Charles’ supremacy as a ruler and Pilser’s dominance among beers.

Pilser-Urquell, it should be noted, is the original Pilsner and brewed in Plzen. The other big beer in the Czech Republic is Budweiser Budvar, which again is the original Budweiser and brewed in Ceske Budejovice. Or it is kind of the original Budweiser. Apparently the American brand was given its name in 1874 by its German brewmaster who thought it reminded him of his home lagers and wanted it to reflect its heritage with a German sounding name. The Budejovice beer had been brewed there for hundreds of year, but was given its name in 1895. Unsurprisingly there has been a long-running legal battle over the name.

A black Prague (with photos)

Prague is likely the most tourist-oriented major city I’ve ever visited. In my guidebook, it says locals flee in the summer when the tourist-to-local ratio reaches nine-to-one. That means that if there are half-a-million residents left in the city (which boasts a stable population of 1.2 million, then there are 4.5 millions cramming its streets.

And from our experience wading through the crowds on a brisk day where the windchill made it feel like one- or two-degrees, I can believe it. Still, that’s what you get when your city was left untouched by World War II and boasts architecture from the 900 A.D., when your main square boasts three massive churches which would be centrepieces for lesser cities and when the biggest church of them all stands on a hill overlooking the city and surrounded by one of the oldest and largest castles in Europe.

A statue on the Charles Bridge in Prague at dusk. You can’t see the teeming hordes of tourists or the street-hawkers in this photo but trust me, they’re there.

Just off the main square in Prague.

The changing of the guards at Prague Castle.

A stained glass window inside St. Vitus Cathedral in Prague.

Jesus inside St. Vitus. He was dusty. Hasn’t moved in a while, I guess.

The throne inside Prague Castle.

A mighty angry dude outside Prague Castle.

Body-czeched

Magda and I are sitting in a restaurant just down the hill from Prague Castle Sunday when I deign to make a little joke:

“What do you say when you’re done eating?” I ask. “Czech please.”

The response, and not a delayed one at that: “You idiot.”

Fair enough, I probably deserved it. But when we finish our meal, it’s Magda who pipes up and says something I’ve never heard her say before: “Czech please!”

Zagreb Rock City

One of the best things about traveling to new countries is coming across events that can’t be found in any guidebook. We had one day to spend in Zagreb and spent it trying to see everything worth seeing, including a couple of museums, the lacklustre botanical gardens and the old town. The city very much resembles an old European capital in the mode of London or Vienna.

With tourists few and far between, we basically got a personal tour of Glyptoteka, which houses the country’s main sculpture museum, during which we briefly met the artist who had a feature exhibition running and who was evidently (loudly) explaining his work to friends, or at least interested acquaintences.

But the best part of the day was stumbling across a downtown free concert, much like those staged in public spaces in Canada in the summer. Grabbing a beer and, for Magda, a hot chocolate (literally warmed up chocolate), we took in a pair of interesting bands.

The first featured a very enthusiastic frontman playing a harmonica over what can only be described as Croatian Rock. Don’t know what I’m talking about? Neither do I. Yet he was entertaining as he played his Gypsi-fied rock and roll, singing English words in a very strong Croatian accent. The second band lost the accent and replaced the harmonica solos with guitar shredding. They would not have been out of place playing an early slot at Funtastic and clearly knew what they were doing even if they were playing for a free crowd of a couple hundred.

Today in Prague, meanwhile, we stumbled across American track star (and alleged steroid user) Carl Lewis during a charity run being headquartered in Prague’s main square. Apart from the fact that I thought I would finally escape taking photos of charity runs by leaving my job at The Morning Star, it was quite the scene, backed by the spectacular Tyn Church.