Czeching out Prague

With Gothic bridges, larger-than-life statuary and fairytale castles, history is all around you

"Prague in the winter?" friends exclaimed when I said I wanted to go to the capital of the Czech Republic. "You'll freeze!" Was summer a better time for visiting, I asked. I was told that locals said the only way to cross Charles Bridge in summer was to be catapulted over hordes of tourists.

So I cross summer and winter off my travel dates, and decide to visit Prague in November. The city is enshrouded in a dense fog the night we arrive. We step out onto the cobblestone streets of Old Town for a late dinner. Gargoyles peer at us across grey Gothic buildings, some of which date back to the 1600s. Prague is full of these monstrous creatures, all one has to do is look up to see them. But then that's not surprising as legend has it that Rabbi Loew, who lived in Prague in the late 16th century, created the first golem (the mad, not-quite-human being immortalised in JRR Tolkeins' Lord of the Rings) to protect the Jewish community. In spite of the gargoyles above, the streets of Prague are lively. Even outdoor cafes are buzzing in the November chill because of the large overhead heaters.

The next morning, when the fog lifts, we step out to cloudless blue skies and a view of the most imposing bridge I've had the pleasure of walking on. Charles Bridge is a Gothic stone bridge that connects the Old Town and Lesser Town (Malá Strana). With larger-than-life statuary on both sides and the fairytale-like Prague Castle looming above, it is a sight to behold. It is said that egg yolks were mixed into the mortar to strengthen the construction of the bridge. The yolks probably did the trick, for the construction of the bridge began in 1357 and it has withstood many floods since. Although November isn't exactly peak season here, the bridge is crowded, probably because few just walk across it. Most, like us, amble slowly past each statue and stop often to take in views of Petrin Hill across the Vltava.

The Old Town Square

Bridge crossing has never taken me so long before, I muse as we eventually reach the other side. It's also given us an appetite. We stop at a roadside stand of Trdelnik (after many hilarious attempts, I finally figure it is pronounced somewhat like "turtleneck"). This is a sweet bread rolled on a tube, baked on an open spit and dusted with sugar and cinnamon. We wash it down with some grog (hot rum with sugar and lemon that gives me a firsthand idea about the origins of the word 'groggy').

History is all around us, I find. Unlike other European capitals, Prague remained relatively unscathed by the German occupation and the World Wars (other than 1945, when it was bombed by the Americans, who somehow mistook it for Dresden, 83 miles away). Consequently, its buildings, churches and bridges stand today as glorious as they were when built in 14th century. Add to this its first rate tourism infrastructure and it's not surprising that Prague ranks fifth in Tripadvisor's 2014 list of the best tourist destinations in the world.

The Lennon Wall that features political graffiti

Walking through the Lesser Quarter, I stumble upon the Lennon Wall. After his murder in 1980, the former Beatle became somewhat of a pacifist hero for many young Czechs, chafing under the oppressive communist regime that had banned most Western pop music. Soon after his death, someone painted his picture on a wall in a secluded square opposite the French Embassy, along with political graffiti and Beatles' lyrics. The government had it removed, but instantly more graffiti came up at the exact same spot. The more the government tried to erase it, the more the Lennon Wall grew as a political focus as well as pilgrimage point for people wanting a change. In 1989, the Velvet Revolution took place, Czech Republic and Slovakia parted ways and the Lennon Wall became an institution.

The famous Czech marionettes

The next evening, we get tickets for a classical music performance by the Czech National Orchestra. The chamber is surprisingly small, seating not more than 40, but the acoustics are wonderful. The string quartet begins with Bach's Air on G String and I'm lost in the luxury of listening to music without the artifice of modern microphones. A soprano renders a fine version of Mozart's Requiem Lacrimosa, and I'm in heaven, loath to return to earth.

To earth I must return though, for I have a date with time at the medieval Clock Tower in Wenceslas Square. Installed in 1410, it's the oldest astronomical clock in the world in working order. Every hour, two windows open in the tower and Death himself (depicted by a skeleton) comes out to ring the bell. The marionette-like apostles emerge, one by one. Other than Death, three other characters take centrestage - Vanity (depicted by a man admiring his own reflection, Avarice (depicted by a man carrying a bag of gold) and Pleasure (depicted by a dancing Turk). The symbolism is odd and dark, but the hourly spectacle is quite a sight.

Another, probably more appetising, sight at the Wenceslas Square is the flame-smoked ham, traditionally had with beer and a potato salad - and who are we to meddle with tradition? The pork is tender, deliciously smoky and its pairing with fresh pilsner is inspired. An old gent sings Louis Armstrong's What a Wonderful World in a decidedly Czech accent. It's our last day in Prague, so I dig out all my Czech Koruna coins and place them in his hat. Before I know it, our plane is taxiing down the runway. Passengers look out of the windows to get one last look at Prague, but I shut my eyes. I'm already making plans to return.