Letter from Prague | All stories

“…OVÁ! ” bellowed the registrar, bringing the entire ceremony to a halt. The scene was Prague’s Old Town Hall, and the occasion my own wedding in September 1997. My wife Katrin had made the fatal mistake of signing the register without adding the Czech feminine ending “…ová” to her name. Although neither she nor I were Czech citizens, this made the entire ceremony invalid. As was clear enough from the expression on her face the registrar was not for turning, so Katrin reluctantly added the three letters, and I was solemnly informed that I may now

Recently I was somewhat bizarrely reminded of a sound that is quintessentially linked to my childhood and growing up in the city of Montreal: the ever-present sound, in winter, of car tires crunching slowly over snow as they pull out of the drive. It is common in Montreal, less so for the centre of Prague, at least for more than a couple of days. But that’s the way it’s been here now for roughly a month: snow - and lots of it.

The Commies tried to destroy my neighbourhood. I must admit I myself wasn’t actually living there at the time, but if the Communists had had their way, much of Žižkov would today be covered in grey paneláky, prefabricated blocks of flats that blight the outskirts of many Czech cities and towns.

All agree that restaurant culture in Prague has advanced dramatically over the past ten years or so, with perhaps the exception of some notorious tourist traps in the areas popular with visitors. Service has improved and so has the quality of food. And those who have had enough of international food can now even go for traditional Czech cuisine in its traditional environment – a successful restaurant group has opened an eatery called Lokál which promises to take you decades back in time.

I had to think of you the other day, not just because your birthday is coming up. After work, I was walking down Londýnská Street, near the radio station, and passed the plastic surgery hospital that used to be a women’s hospital 63 years ago.

I must admit I am somewhat in two minds about my girlfriend’s Christmas present to herself: a global positioning system device. It is not that I can find too much fault with the device itself, although on a recent trip to the site of a former Baťa factory in England it did tell us to steer straight ahead when there was only a brick wall in front. I learnt later that the system is only accurate to about 10 metres and gets a bit confused when it comes down to more detailed instructions.

Prague has a new top class attraction. Well, it’s not actually new new, but it is a mere two months since the Vítkov National Memorial was opened to the public for the first time after a major renovation job. High above the city on the hill between the districts of Žižkov and Karlín, the imposing functionalist structure was completed in 1932. Its main purpose was to honour the memory of the Legions whose bravery in World War I had helped win support for the foundation of independent Czechoslovakia.

Living on the outskirts of Prague in an area that’s about 150 meters higher than the city centre I cannot complain about the dearth of snow. If there is any snow to be had – we have it. While the snow in town usually melts as soon as it hits the ground, where I live it just piles up.

I have the feeling that your hearing is more acute when the temperature is -10 Celsius. Certainly Prague smells better, but it seems to sound better too. But then I always enjoyed the sounds of just about anything Czech at all, from the sound of Dvořák to the sound of ř.

This is the third Sunday of the Christian period of Advent, referred to in Czech as Stříbrná neděle or Silver Sunday. One particular third Sunday in Advent, 60 years ago in 1949, entered the history books, as it marked the start of an odd and rather grotesque episode in the Communist regime’s war against one of its ideological enemies, Czechoslovakia’s Roman Catholic Church.