Prague is known as the “Paris of the East” and though I hear several other cities also lay claim to this title, it’s easy to see why Prague (known locally as “Praha“) is a serious contender.
As we walked toward the historic Old Town Square our first night in the city – also New Year’s Eve – scenes straight from the illustrated pages of a fairy tale dazzled our senses. Our double-socked, insulated boots tread on cobblestone roads and sidewalks slick from evaporating snow. We strode past vibrantly-colored edifices, red tiled-roofs and magnificent Gothic cathedrals – a city oozing with charm.
As I experienced in Paris, I wondered if city officials flooded the air with happy molecules. You can’t help but feel more buoyant; shielded from life’s little worries for a moment as you absorb it all.
When we reached the picturesque square, we knew we’d made the right decision to skip out on the rest of our Berlin trip and take a detour to Prague. Within minutes of integrating ourselves into the large crowd of merry faces – young, old and in between – the last of the gloomy essence of Berlin fled from our psyches.
A massive, beautifully-trimmed Christmas tree dominated the square; an enthusiastic Czech rock band on a stage with “2015” brandished in roman numerals on a bright yellow awning, entertained the gathered, some of whom blared noisemakers, others who relied on their own vocal cords to make noise; while others drank from cans of Pilsner Urquell because drinking on the street in Prague? No worries there.
Prague knows how to throw a New Year’s Eve party! Minutes before midnight, we filed out the Irish pub we’d settled in earlier, and with the rest of the new year celebrants converged on the town square for the countdown to midnight. The magical fireworks show began the second the clock struck “12” and seemed to continue for hours, never wavering in its power to delight. The party really didn’t stop ’til (at least) “6 in the morning.”
One good thing I got from Berlin: pre-party beverages in the form of Smirnoff mixed drinks in CANS. Yeah buddy!
Fireworks in Old Town Square
Photo courtesy of my friend Z
Prague’s French influence is also evident in its many brasseries, bistros and patisseries, a handful of which are Michelin-starred or Michelin-recommended. Just when we thought our Europe trip would be light on food memories. Z and I were brunch buddies when we both lived in Los Angeles, so it’s fitting that we welcomed 2015 with a late-morning meal at a darling French restaurant and patisserie, Au Gourmand, whose window display of pastries beckon the sweet-toothers and the savory-seekers alike.
I don’t usually order omelets because I prefer my eggs cooked otherwise, but I had a feeling Au Gourmand would make a great one and they did. This simple ham and cheese omelet was deliciously worth stepping out of my egg comfort zone.
Photo courtesy of Z
After a satisfying brunch we revisited the Old Town Square to take it in during the light of day.
Eating a Kielbasa in Prague
The famous Astronomical Clockat the Old Town Hall Tower. People gather to watch a procession of the of the 12 (wooden-figured) Apostles of Christ, at the top of each hour. Each of the intricately detailed dials represent different astronomical events. The only thing I didn’t see on the clock tower was the actual current time!
For someone like me who hates being among huge crowds of people wandering aimlessly, visiting the Charles Bridge – probably one of Prague’s most spectacular and most visited sites – should have been a nightmare. Everyone in Prague seemed to have descended upon the bridge that day. Yet, as we slowly traversed the bridge with the throng of others, noticing an over-abundance of selfie-sticks rising above the mass, I was so taken by the wondrous view all around me, I felt temporarily insulated from annoyance. Is this place for real?
The centuries old Charles Bridge connects Prague’s Old Town (or Stare Miasto) to Lesser Town (Malá Strana) across the Vltava River. Along the nearly 1/2 mile long bridge, in addition to stunning views of the city, you’ll find local artists and craftspeople selling their work as souvenirs, musicians entertaining for tips, striking religious imagery, as well as two imposing Gothic towers flanking each end of the pedestrian thoroughfare.
An interesting choice for a makeout spot…
For the first dinner of 2015, we kept the French theme going and enjoyed a fantastic meal at Chez Marcel that had me happy dancing in my seat with each course.
They had menus in English as well as Czech
Interior – walls decorated with vintage posters and advertisements
This delicious dessert of fondant au chocolat oozed warm chocolate once punctured. It paired well with the cool ice cream.
Rack of lamb cooked medium, with gnocchi-like Czech dumplings and a sweet spinach
Wanting a view of Prague from above, we returned to the Charles Bridge the next day and to our delight, found the number of people greatly reduced from the New Year’s Day horde and much easier to navigate. Ascending the narrow steps to the top of the Lessor Town Bridge Tower – one of the two towers that stand on each end of the Charles Bridge – led us to views so magnificent, I know why the term “breathtaking” became such a writing cliché.
Old Town Bridge Tower leading to the Charles Bridge
Hello!
On the other side of the tower exists the incongruously named Lessor Town, home of the grand and architecturally-striking Prague Castle, where the President of the Czech Republic resides.
The night landscape lit romantic views on the way back into Old Town.
Sculpture by famous Czech artist, David Černý. as seen in the courtyard of the Franz Kafka museum.
Dinner that night, our last in the city, delivered another solid dining experience courtesy of GamberoRosso serving up Italian cuisine like the black risotto with prawns I ordered.
Prague charmed me to the core and ranks highly on my mental list of favorite world cities. I couldn’t have asked for a better place to ring in the New Year!
I liked Berlin when my friend and I arrived in the sprawling German capital a week ago. Our hostel was in Friedrichshain, where our cab driver told us – in heavily German-accented English – is a “good area with lots of clubs. If you come to Berlin to party, you are in the right place!” In fact, the hostel is directly across the street from a club, as well as the S-Bahn – one of the two main railways in Berlin. Not only that, the infamous Berlin Wall that divided East and West Berlin for nearly 30 years until 1989, was just a five-minute walk away.
The East Side Gallery of what remains of the Berlin Wall displays the work of artists from across the world.
Ran across a Santa Claus from Budapest at the Berlin Wall. When we told him we are from America he said, “Amereecah! I love Amereecah! Caleeforneeya. New Yorkh! Flooreeda! Hahahaha!” He was amusing, but a little much.For dinner one evening, I tried the popular German dish of picked pork knuckle at Zum Alten Tor, served with sauerkraut and boiled potatoes. The pork was tender and fatty, sauerkraut sour and potatoes were standard. It was good, but I don’t need to have it again.
In search of breakfast one morning – I hadn’t seen an egg in almost two weeks; plenty of beef, pork and pastries though – we stumbled into the Kreuzberg neighborhood. A gritty enclave which, in appearance, reminds me of Queens, New York with the train rattling on rails up above, graffiti-painted apartment buildings and restaurants serving up cuisine from different nations. Sadly, we didn’t consume any eggs that day. December 26th is a holiday in Germany and as we discovered, many businesses closed up shop.
Spree River and the Oberbaum Bridge which connects Friedrichshain to Kreuzberg
Oberbaum Bridge connects Friedrichshain to Kreuzberg
Super long German word for health center
On a 2.5 hour walking tour our second day in Berlin – on the coldest day we experienced on our trip so far; Z worried her frozen pinky toes would die and fall off – we consumed what our New Zealander turned Berliner guide, Stephanie, told us amounted to “800 years of German history in one afternoon.”
Brandenburg Gate, the center of NYE festivities
Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe contains 2711 stone slabs. The slabs do not have particular meaning, the memorial is designed to make the viewer think.
Hitler and Eva Braun’s bunker until the end of the war before they killed themselves. It looks like a parking lot because the German’s want to be careful not to appear to be celebrating Hitler’s life.
Santa Claus at the mall in Berlin
Santa Claus at the mall in Berlin
One of the few structures to withstand the destruction of war
Memorial to Germans who were massacred as a result of standing up against communism.
This mural painted on a one of the walls of the former Mural on Outside the Former Headquarters of the Former Headquarters of the Luftwaffe HQ represents the ideals of what communism could be. It’s the same length as the pool that represents the deaths of those who died as a result of communism gone wrong.
This mural painted on a one of the walls of the former Mural on Outside the Former Headquarters of the Former Headquarters of the Luftwaffe HQ represents the ideals of what communism could be. It’s the same length as the pool that represents the deaths of those who died as a result of communism gone wrong.
The remains of the Berlin Wall across from the former HQ of the Luftwaffe. A number of employees in the building would try to scale the wall via multiple means, including zipline, to escape East Berlin, knowing they risked being shot by officers who were incented to shoot escapees.
Humboldt University, one of Berlin’s oldest unis
After the walking tour we sought warmth at the charming Christmas market, or Gendarmenmarkt, in a beautiful square between two impressive cathedrals.
This darling group sang german carols the crowd knew the words to, and though we didn’t, it was still fun to watch and glove-clap along.
My dinner: bratwurst, damn good sauerkraut and Hefeweizen in Germany!!
The next day, in search of an eggy breakfast once again, we ventured to the adorable Café im Literaturhaus near Kurfürstendamm (Ku’damm). If Kruezberg is Queens, Ku’damm, Berlin’s glitzy shopping avenue – like a Champs-Élysées sister – is the Upper East Side in Manhattan. Boutiques, shops, restaurants and cafes line the over two-mile long destination, along with seasonal Christmas pop-up stands shilling roasted chestnuts, crepes, Glühwein and sausage wursts, among other goodies. People packed the shops and the “queues” for dressing rooms and cash registers wound through doors and around corners.
On the train ride to Ku’daam we witnessed an old couple go off on young Arab woman because the old woman tripped over the woman’s foot.
Brandenburg Gate decals on the U-Bahn
The woman and her husband berated the bewildered young woman for minutes in harsh German tones. We have no idea what they were going on about, but that would not have been me sitting there. No sir. Not gonna yell at me with some nonsense. We shared sentimental looks with the woman. That couple was out of line.
Unfortunately, we arrived at Literaturhaus minutes too late for breakfast. Foiled again! As we were waiting for our server to clear the table she led us to, a tall dirty-blond haired man moved my friend with a slight push to her back and said tersely, “you have to get out of the way.” I looked askance at his back as he exited the restaurant, shocked at his rudeness.
People behaving like jackholes aside, we enjoyed lunch instead and followed it up with a bit of shopping on the avenue.
Serrano ham sandwich in a baguette with egg at Literaturhaus cafe
Organic rhubarb lemonade
i don’t pop Molly’s, I rock Christian Dior…or at least I pretend to in German malls.
Firecrackers for sale at the mall
Firecrackers for sale at the mall
I finally saw eggs of the scrambled form the day before we left Berlin when we returned to Literaturhaus the following day. Yippee!
Beautifully presented eggs and bacon on a bed of “hush” browns (as printed on the menu).
Berlin’s reputation as a party city, with one of the world’s largest New Year’s Eve celebrations, is why we chose it for NYE festivities. To get a taste of the Berlin nightlife in prep for the over-hyped holiday eve, one night we piled on our multiple layers of clothing – sexy – and headed out tor Clärchens Ballhaus in Mitte, because who doesn’t want to go dance it up with Germans in a ballhaus/biergarten/dance club/restaurant?
Clärchen’s Ballhaus exterior. The outdoor biergarten was closed due to the cold
The clientele was a mix of people I couldn’t figure out: a tall white-haired couple knocked back Berliners (the local beer) like pros; a female couple dance seductively nearby; assertive to the point of nearly-aggressive men stared lasciviously at women whose gaze met theirs and tried to find ladies to bump and grind; other couples – both straight and gay – danced and sang to American songs sung by a fun German cover band. They performed “Hey Ya” by Outkast among other popular former American Top 40 hits.
The kitsch of the place made the evening fun, but if I lived in the area I am not sure it’d be a regular haunt.
Like Copenhagen, smoking in bars is legal, which for this non-smoking Californian is tough to endure for too long.
On another night we joined a pub crawl which Z and I both agree was a boring mess. I’ve had more fun at the dentist. At least my dentist tries to make conversation with me, unlike the surprisingly unfriendly Australians on the crawl with whom I attempted to make conversation. Also unlike the three crawl hosts who spent more time socializing with each other than the group. Two French women we talked to betrayed the French reputation for rudeness and were polite and conversational. Unfortunately between their somewhat limited English and our limited French (a few years of French as a kid only gets you so far), conversation grew stilted. We chatted up an American couple from Texas and New Jersey who commented multiple times about how unfriendly they found Germans.
Another dinner – more meat. Mixed wursts plate. I miss vegetables.
As thankful as we were to meet the outgoing American couple, we were so put off by the group’s lack of cohesion or attempts to remedy it, along with the hosts’ subpar socializing job, we left the pub crawl at the second bar and set off on our own. I wasted a cute outfit and risked a hangover on a lame evening – I doubly resent the pub crawl.
We alternated between walking (an average of 4.5 miles a day), taxis and the U-Bahn and S-Bahn to get around. Buying tickets at the train station amounted to playing a live action “hurt as many people as possible” video game of which you are the main character. Your goal is to buy a train ticket without getting shoved, pushed, hovered over or yelled at. To be fair, whenever someone spoke to me in German I felt like I was being lectured even if they were saying “I like ponies.”
A woman shoved me out of the way at the train station one morning as I was waiting in line for the ticket machine. It left me feeling which left me feeling disrespected. After not quite five days in Berlin, during which both our moods drifted toward “blah,” we realized the overarching sense of misery and general sense of displeasure in the Berlin atmosphere was bringing us down. I tired of either being stared at or ignored. I even had nightmares every night!
A couple of hours later we agreed to a detour in our travel plans and decided to leave Berlin early and spend New Year’s Eve somewhere more pleasant. First though, we visited a place of historical importance, even though it certainly wouldn’t boost our spirits: Sachsenhausen concentration camp.
Town of Oranienburg. I wonder what it would be like to live there, so close to a former concentration camp.
The train ride to Oranienburg, where the Sachsenhausen former concentration camp exists as a museum and memorial, is about 50 minutes from the center of Berlin. The number of passengers aboard dwindled the further north we traveled, with only a smattering of riders remaining at the train’s last stop. As Z commented to me, “they really did ship people out to the furthest place they could.” Every muscle in my body suddenly seemed to weigh double.
As sunlight gave way to moonlight, we arrived at the snow-covered entrance to one of the most depressing places my mind and body have ever been.
Sachsenhausen operated as a prison, work camp and extermination center from 1936 to 1945. The camp housed close to 200,000 prisoners including criminals (murderers, rapists), Jehovah’s Witnesses, gay people, Jewish people and communists.
Sachsenhausen former concentration camp
Sachsenhausen concentration camp
We didn’t stay long. I feel nauseated the deeper we trekked into the recesses of the grounds. The remaining empty barracks, lit from within, served as a spooky reminder of the purpose they once served. The invisible stench of human depravity leading to human misery hung in the already cold air. Z felt the hairs on the nape of her neck stand at attention. No amount of thought-wangling will make me understand how people can be so disgustingly cruel to each other.
And yet…some people still managed to take photos of themselves smiling in front of the memorials.
The next morning, we boarded a train for the 4.5 hour ride to Prague, Czech Republic in search of warmer people and lifted spirits.
Brrrr! It is chilly and rainy this time of year in Copenhagen. It’s been on average low- to mid-40s, with a bit of a wind and rain everyday.
The Danish guide from the walking tour we took earlier in the day, Magnus, also led that evening’s four-bar pub crawl. The group of about 15 included a few familiar faces from the earlier tour and represented several nations including England, Australia, Columbia, Trinidad, Peru and, of course, Denmark.
Also in our group: two progressively drunker American dudebros. Later in the night, one of the dudebros stumbled in front of a politi (police) car and started to give them lip, which they didn’t find amusing; neither did I and neither did Magnus as he warned, “They don’t like that.” Sigh.
50DKK is a little over US $8.00
The Saloon Bar has free popcorn – one of my favorite bar treats!
Me & Z with (l to r): L from Peru & A & S from England. My fellow afro-haired new friend A made my night when he told me he thought I (and my friend) looked no older than 25. When 22-year olds think you’re in their peer group, it makes you feel good.
Most of the group at Saloon Bar in Copenhagen. We blended quite well and I think everyone had a good time given the smiles and laughter surrounding me.
With the sisters from Australia and _ from Trinidad. We had a fun-spirited debate over who was more talented between Iggy Azalea and Nicki Minaj. You can guess who the Aussies and the Trinidadian chose. I broke the tie with a vote for Nicki.
With two Columbians who told us they are over the jokes about cocaine which I can imagine is even more tiresome for the one woman who is from Medellin.
Fun Times!
The next morning jet lag hit me hard. We gave in to the Danish spirit of “hygge” and slept in before starting the day. On the agenda for our afternoon: a free walking tour of the neighborhood Christianshavn and the very unique “freetown” Christiania.
Before the walking tour, we stopped for lunch at a fantastic indoor market, Torvehollerne, the largest food market in Copenhagen, where vendors sell food and goods from around the world.
Open-faced sandwiches, or Smørrebrød, are popular in Danish cuisine. It’s not just the taste that’s important with these buttered, rye-bread based sandwiches; presentation matters, as well.
One of the two buildings that make up Torvehollerne in Copenhagen
Inside Torvehollerne
A Spanish tapas place next to a French gastronomy mini-restaurant.
Smørrebrød with smoked salmon with a tart cream sauce. Tasty.
I didn’t catch the name of this sandwich, but from what I gathered, it’s an egg salad on rye bread topped with pickled herring (I think). I liked the egg salad, the pickled meat on the other hand made my cheeks concave.
So much fish for sale in Torvehollerne
When we met up with the tour group, we noticed the Columbian girls from the previous night’s pub crawl and greeted them. Magnus, the wonder guide, led this tour too.
Scenes from Christianshavn
Børsen, the oldest stock exchange in Denmark
“Little Amsterdam” in Christianshavn, Copenhagen
Hello Copenhagen!
Church of Our Saviour with it’s beautiful spiral has a carillon that plays songs each hour.
On our way to Christiania, a freetown within Christianshavn, Magnus explained some of its history. Christianiais like a hippie commune; the less than 900 residents live a bohemian lifestyle with few rules. One notable rule: no cars allowed. Magnus warned us that by appearance you’d think it’s the kind of place one might avoid: dilapidated buildings; people wearing disheveled, stained clothing; graffiti-covered facades; overgrown flora and an overall sketchy vibe. There are also shops, restaurants and an annual Christmas market within Christiania. Magnus assured us “it’s safe”; probably one of the safest areas in the city.
Within Christiania you’ll find the “Green Light District,” also known as “pusher street,” a small area where dealers openly sell marijuana and hash; no questions asked and no harassment or involvement from law enforcement. As long as no hard drugs are involved, everything is copacetic. Anyone caught with hard drugs has the option of either going to rehab or permanent banishment from the town.
I didn’t take very many photos in Christiania, partly out of respect for the culture and partly out of fear of being kicked out embarrassingly. Photos aren’t allowed within the Green Light District at all.
One of the entrances to Christiania
Seen in Christiania
We were still in Christiania by nightfall when we got caught up in sudden rainstorm that sent everyone scurrying for cover. Once the rain ended, we carefully found our way out of the sparsely-lit, creepy-in-the-dark, maze of Christiania.
Our evening concluded with a French-influenced dinner at Grill Royal.
I'm Keisha ("Kee-shuh", not to be confused with Ke$ha). I am a (later) thirty-something, non-mommy, non-wife, who lives in San Francisco, California New York and has lots of opinions on lots of things.
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Prague is known as the “Paris of the East” and though I hear several other cities also lay claim to this title, it’s easy to see why Prague (known locally as “Praha“) is a serious contender.
I'm Keisha ("Kee-shuh", not to be confused with 
