I’m brushing my long blonde hair, starting to pack a carry-on bag, and waiting in my cozy Western Massachusetts apartment for my fiancé, Joel, to get home after a week of flying the still-friendly skies. He’s a flight attendant. The two of us have been romantically together for four years but have been best friends for more than six.
I’ve been talking about getting away and have long wanted to visit the Czech Republic. My day job involves sending college students to study abroad, so it’s in my nature to travel. Joel opens our apartment door, eagerly drops his suitcase, sighs, and says, “I’m so happy to be home!” I smile coyly and say, “We’re going to Prague!” Even his reddish beard can’t hide his grin as I blurt out these words. He replies, “You’re always keeping me on my toes. Life is never going to be boring with you!”
Two days later, exhausted but wired from an 11-hour flight to Vaclav Havel Airport (PRG), we step into the Grand Majestic Hotel. The lily-scented lobby glistens with creamy marble walls and luscious greenery, and we awkwardly practice our newly learned Czech with the kindhearted doorman. Our room is adorned with luxurious crimson-red accents on the walls and bedspread, and our neighbor’s fresh laundry sways in the breeze next to our balcony. I gratefully kiss Joel for making this impulsive dream trip a reality. “I’m not marrying him for nothing,” I often say as a cocktail-hour joke to friends, referring to his flight benefits. (Though some jokes have a hint of truth to them, right?)
Shaking off the jetlag in the early afternoon, we savor everything within walking distance. The colors of Old Town Square pop off the street like a 3D gothic painting. The vibrant buildings shine in Miami pinks and Eleuthera blues. Blooming purple buds flower all around, and it looks surreal. Romantic violinists play “Moon River” on the Charles Bridge. Joel and I slow dance. We twirl around each other oozing pure adoration. His tender arms, wrapped around me, feel heavenly.
We venture along the cobblestone streets, hand in hand, arriving at an intimate vegan restaurant where we share an outdoor cocktail on a street Kafka once roamed. The gargoyle statues may have wet bird poop on them, the iconic Astronomical Clock is under construction, and even the thousands of tourists with selfie-sticks don’t put a damper on my day. When I fall in love, I fall hard.
Dusk rolls in with a vibrant cobalt sky. We pop into a steampunk champagne bar. (Yes, it’s a thing here!) It feels like we’ve entered an industrial fantasyland with impressive handcrafted metalwork all around, from the life-size statues in every corner to the various wheels of different proportions lining the walls. A funky architectural art exhibit of sorts. We meet a young couple from Saudi Arabia as we sit down at a round communal table. Ordering bottles, we share stories about travel, well into the night. Joel and I speak the same language when it comes to readily bonding with strangers abroad and making fast friendships one would never otherwise have the chance to experience.
Walking home under the midnight stars, I’m spiritually drawn to an old rusty iron gate. I have liquid courage from all the champagne bubbles, for once not being afraid of the dark. Peering through the gate’s chilly bars, I sense shadows moving, fallen stones, and mysterious abnormal energy. This eerie dark area is sucking me in. It’s as if I can hear souls crying out from deep in the soil. Joel whispers, “Jess, let’s come back tomorrow… in the daylight.” Although something is pulling me toward this unlit space, I agree to leave. It’s been a long day.
The next morning, we instinctively walk to the Jewish Quarter. Joel never separates his fingers from mine. We visit Maisel Synagogue, a neo-gothic historical monument built at the end of the 16th century, and tour the Spanish Synagogue built in Moorish Revival style. Freud and Kafka were members here. We enter Klausen Synagogue, filled with Torahs, menorahs, and treasures encased in glass. Guests hum quietly in reverent prayer as they enter. I observe in silence. Then we walk to the nearby Pinkas Synagogue, a memorial where 80,000 Jewish Czech names are inscribed in black and red, from floor to ceiling. Known victims of the Holocaust.
My eyes are scanning for a version of Sokol, my family name, with tears falling down my cheeks as I stare at the poignant, artistic yet heartbreaking walls. Under my breath I ask the names on the wall, “Are we related?” Joel squeezes my hand harder when he hears me. My heart is beating so fast. I’m all choked up and out of tissues. As we leave, we see framed crayon drawings made by desperate young girls trying to escape Auschwitz dormitories. I need to get out.
The steep stairs outside lead down to a cemetery. The haunting Old Jewish Cemetery. And then I behold the rusty iron gates from last night’s midnight encounter. My legs are jelly as I try to walk.
There’s no grass to be seen when the door opens, only headstones, crooked, snapped in half. Stones upon stones, the earliest erected long before World War II. Jews buried on top of Jews, no names, no respect. Shooting practice for Nazis. The stones are crumbling on each other, completely broken. There are words on some, all in Hebrew, but not even a tour guide could tell you what they were meant to say. Pebbles are placed out of respect on graves that are barely upright. This cemetery is so crowded, but not with the living.
I feel as if time has stopped, like the Astronomical Clock. Everything is rapidly spinning around me, and it’s as if I’m being swallowed up in this spot on earth. Is this location what was calling me to Prague? Joel holds me in his arms as he figures out the best way to leave.
We meander in dazed silence for 20 minutes before arriving at Hemingway Bar, an eclectic gathering scene famous for its cocktails. I order a glass globe filled with an absinthe concoction. When my goblet gets low, the bartender attentively refills it to the gold-leaf rim. He senses my quiet demeaner and sadness. Still, Joel and I play trivia with the staff and meet some congenial locals who convince us to trek up to Prague Castle. Although it’s not my priority, Joel likes the idea and thinks it would be good for us to get back outside and explore. He’s probably right, and I’m grateful for his encouragement.
I have a sense of achiness, introspection, and emotional despair as we hike the hills of the “City of a Hundred Spires.” It’s 90 degrees, and I’ve never done absinthe before… but I sense this isn’t what’s causing my struggle.
Reaching the top, the golden grandeur of Prague Castle and its Cathedral of St. Vitus is stunning. This is the largest ancient castle in the world. But after visiting the modest synagogues and the tombstone-stacked Jewish burial ground, the immaculate design is giving me a profound sense of sorrow. As my hero Anthony Bourdain famously said, “Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart.” And then I see a fucking Starbucks kiosk near the stately structure. Seriously? You’re thirsty for a café-chain basic beverage here? My melancholy temporarily turns to indignation. The dichotomy swallows me whole.
Joel looks at me, as if he’s reading my thoughts, and we find a peaceful overlook to gaze out and reflect in silence. Flashbacks from the time I spent in Israel swirl through my head, especially my hike up Masada. I take deep breaths looking at the sun setting above the sparkling landscape of burnt-orange rooftops, the radiant larger-than-life castle, and my handsome fiancé. Just then, Joel snaps a candid photo of me against our resplendent backdrop as I contemplate this complicated city full of ancestral history.
My heartfelt expression captured in his picture is inspired by this pensive moment, and it conveys my appreciation for Joel. How he is willing to take this unpredictable journey of life with me. He puts down his phone and reaches for my hand. I don’t ever want to feel his fingers slipping away from mine.
Reaching the top, the golden grandeur of Prague Castle and its Cathedral of St. Vitus is stunning. This is the largest ancient castle in the world.
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