Žižka, Žižkov, Vitkov.... Whatever.

83 Days In, 28 Days Out

The fantastic thing about having an ever-present count of days is that I can tell you exactly how long it took me to do something. So for example, it took me 83 days to visit Vitkov Hill, which I've been trying to get to almost since the first week of class. The not-so-good thing is that I always know exactly how many days are left, which only worsens my (lack of) motivation to finish out the semester. I've already mentally checked out of study abroad. Let's go home!

To be fair, I had tried to get to Vitkov Hill before. Remember this utter and complete fail? I decided to try again. After all, the national memorial building is up there, as well as the statue of Jan Zizka that the czechs market as the biggest equestrian statue in the world. Although, it's not really. That honor goes to the newly-built statue of Genghis Khan in Mongolia, circa 2009. I don't think Zizka was even the largest equestrian statue before that. But anyway....

The museum on Vitkov had recently reopened after a two-year hiatus under renovation (So probably a good thing I didn't make it there the first time I tried). This time, Helen and I did some better research as to how to properly get there. We still managed to flub it up. At the Florenc bus station, we were technically supposed to catch a bus. We saw the buses. We could not for the life of us figure out where the stop was to get on one. Then, we spotted the hill itself we were trying to reach.

Screw it, we thought. It's close enough. Let's just walk. Oh, yeah, and that would lead us up the side of the hill the official website had marked as "difficult terrain."

A bunch of steps and some inclines later (difficult terrain, ha!), we were met with this view. And this view. It's a very different one from the view I've mostly seen over the city, which is to say, from the other side of the river. Mostly, from Petrin Tower, or from the Metronome in Letna park. Personally, I like those better, but this one did give a wonderfully straight-shot view of the Žižkov TV Tower, a little further south.

The permanent exhibition inside the National Memorial building up there holds some interesting things worth seeing. You can go down into what I think was a bunker on the hill. Not sure. There's history of the inter-war period (between the world wars), of Masaryk's time. Tomas Garrigue Masaryk is this heroic figure in Czech culture--it seems like they really adore him. What I personally remember of him is that he married an American woman (which didn't go over too well with the Czechs), and either loved her so much or believed her to be an equal, so that he took her last name (Garrigue) to be his middle name. Several quotes on the wall were attributed to TGM. I think he's a bit like our FDR in that sense.

Also exhibited are some articles owned by Jan Palach, who set himself on fire in the middle of Wenceslas Square in 1969 (I think) in protest of the impending "normalization" of the society. We hear about Jan Palach all the time. All the time. One of my pictures from November 17 is of the memorial plaque dedicated to him in Wenceslas Square, laid over with flowers. It was a bit startling for me to realize, while looking at his things now, that he was 21 when he set himself ablaze. I'm 21.

And on top of the building is a viewing platform. They only allow about 25 people or so up to the platform at a time, for reasons which will be obvious when you get up there. The platform isn't that big--it would be super easy for it to get very crowded, very fast. And potentially for the metal-grate floor to give in. Though I'm sure it's very strong.

My rationalization for making this outing when I should have been doing project work was the chance to go to another tearoom, this one also recommended by Eva, which we headed to now.

Čajovna Ve věži. Tearoom in the tower. As we walked around the corner, searching for the "tower," it suddenly loomed in front, reminiscent of something that might have been in Arthur's Camelot. Up, up, and up the circling stairs, to the third and highest floor. Perhaps it's just the tearooms I've been to so far, but it's not just the interiors of the tea rooms which are dedicated with excruciating care. Each one seems to have its own personality... something that defines it--its own special space, whether that's a basement or at the top of a tower.

This time, I brought friends to share tea with. At noon on a weekday, it might have be a draw between going with a friend and going for some solitude, but on a Friday night, there was no question. Everyone came with a friend, a significant other, and the couples continued to flow in and out as the evening went on, with maybe one or two groups over 30. A generational phenomenon?

This tearoom was also asian-themed, with a Buddha on the wall in our room. But in keeping with each teahouse having its own personality (the first teahouse had served my tea in a pre-prepared pot and little china cup), Čajovna Ve věži served tea in small bowls rather than cups, and our first pot of Taiwanese green tea came was accompanied by a canister of boiling water.

Our attendant, Jan, left us with instructions on how to pour the tea after the first "flush," after we had finished our first bowls. "Pour the water into your bowls, wait for two or three minutes so until it is not so hot, and then pour it into the pot. Then, wait another two or three minutes and pour the tea." We would know from tasting the tea how to adjust our preparation process for the next flush, he said. He may have vastly overestimated our degree of tea knowledge (none).

If the water was too hot when it went into the pot, it would destroy the tea leaves, Jan explained when we queried further. Hence, the warning not to pour boiling water straight into the pot, a procedure which had first seemed terribly counterproductive to us. On the other hand, f it was too cold, the taste wouldn't permeate fully. If we wanted our tea stronger, we should use water at a higher temperature.

I never knew tea could be such an art.