Prague
As I mentioned in my Kraków post, touring a city multiple times with kids has its risks. I don't want the kids to get blasé or bored with repeat visits, and I have to be conscientious about Brigid being so much younger than Myles that she might not remember an earlier stay there.
We were only planning one full day in Prague, and most of it without Randy because he would be at his appointment until late afternoon. There were things we had all seen before, like Prague Castle and St. Vitus Cathedral, and things the kids still hadn't seen that I really appreciated my first time in Prague, like the Jewish Quarter and the Loreta. So many choices!
With only one day ahead of us, then, what to do?
More after the jump
The balance I struck was first to go to the Charles Bridge (which I really cannot get too much of), and then followed that with the National Technology Museum (where we have never been).
In the morning while most tourists are still helping themselves to their hotels' breakfast buffet, the bridge can be relatively quiet and empty.
We could go right up to St. Jan Nepomucký without having to deal with multiple tour groups waiting their turns to rub his memorial for luck.
From there we walked to the National Technology Museum (in Czech Národní Muzeum Technologie). Google Maps told me it was not quite a thirty minute walk, which didn't sound too bad. We knew we would be doing a lot of walking this trip (we averaged five miles a day. Averaged). Of course, Google Maps' assumed pace was clearly much faster than ours. It ended up taking us an hour.
However, we did have some spectacular views of Prague Castle that I didn't recall seeing before.
The National Technology Museum is on Letná Hill. It has been in this building since 1941. The NTM hadn't really been on my list of must-sees, but an American friend of Randy's was there recently and described it to him as one of the best of its kind he had ever seen.
The Museum covers a wide range of science and technology topics--optics, astronomy, transportation, time-keeping, material science, and so on--not all of it necessarily modern and most with some sort of Czech perspective as well. Nearly all of the interpretive information was in Czech with complete (not abbreviated) translation in English. We got as much out of this museum as we would if we could read Czech.
There was a fascinating, 2-floor exhibit on photography, from the earliest days of Daguerreotypes up to digital technology and including development of moving pictures. In the collection was a valuable, original still life by Louis Daguerre himself. There were also examples, many of them Czech, of various technologies developed since the emerging days of photography. Unfortunately, I have few pictures of these parts of the exhibit because they weren't as interesting to Brigid.
What Brigid did want to spend her time on were the hands-on optics demonstrations. Myles took his turns with these, too, but he also was interested in reading all the notes on the walls.
From there we went into an area where I could have spent hours alone--transportation, and in particular, the cars.
Again, this collection highlighted important Czech developments in the technology as well as vehicles that had some significance in Czech history.
Like this 1893 Benz Victoria, the first automobile in Bohemia.
Next to it sat this 1898 NW Präsident, the first automobile built in a Czech factory.
This was when I (predictably, probably) pointed out to the kids that these don't look like cars as cars look today, and what do they resemble? Yes, kids, horse carriages.
And look, kids, how quickly the automobile industry gravitated toward this design. This 1909 Renault A/X was one of 323 cars registered in Prague by 1 March, 1910, and it looks more like a car than something you could hitch to a horse.
Myles and I went bonkers over this 1910 Bugatti 13. While other manufacturers were still only breaking out of the horse-and-buggy mold, Ettore Bugatti was building something incredible and legendary in Molsheim. My son and I kept going back and forth between this and the Renault, unable to fathom how this was on the road at the same time as the A/X. It is also the oldest preserved Bugatti in the world.
I mean, sigh.
This was a 1911 Audi 10/26 HP had an interesting story. The owner feared the army might requisition it when the Great War broke out. He disassembled it and concealed it in his attic to prevent that. After Armistice he did not bother to put it back together. It remained in his attic for forty years. After his death, it became part of the Museum's collection. So, not only is it the oldest Audi in existence in the world, it is in absolutely mint condition. Every single part on this car is original.
There were so many cars, either built in or imported into Czech lands, and every one of them with a story. A 1932 Jawa. A 1938 Jaguar. A 1935 Z-5 Express, the last owner of which was executed by the Nazis for his work in the resistance movement.
And then there was this car, a Mercedes Benz that illustrates volumes about the history of Czechoslovakia in the middle of the 20th century.
This 1939 Mercedes Benz 770 was the most expensive and luxurious car Daimler-Benz produced before the war. It was used by the Nazi commander in Norway, but eventually made its way after the war to Czechoslovakia for use at important state functions. After the communists took over in 1948, it was completely the wrong car for the government to use. It was fitted with a new non-imperialist body in 1952. Under that, it was still a Mercedes Benz.
By this time, Brigid was feeling fatigued from all the cars, so I took less pictures and just pushed Myles along. I tried to keep Brigid's cooperation (I had lost her attention) by promising her other areas in the museum we could visit when I was done with the cars. Astronomy? No! Umm, Chemistry? No! How about Metallurgy? Yes. So I bought a few more minutes of patience with the promise of metals.
It was a good thing, too, because the last car I saw gave me pause. It was just an anonymous looking 1989 Renault sedan, but looking at it I got a little lump in my throat, which surprised me. This humble four-door was a gift from the President of Portugal sent to the writer Václav Havel.
It was never meant to be a car for a the world's newest popularly-elected president, but everything happened so quickly after the Velvet Revolution. The Renault was delivered only hours before the election, and President Havel used it as his State Car for several months until the new government could get him something else.
Seeing that car there, and knowing its connections back to the late 80s and early 90s, a time of the Velvet Revolution, and the Fall of the Berlin Wall, and the first free elections in Poland, and possibly my being in my late teens at the time, I found it hard not to tear up a little. The world felt so different then, so hopeful about peace and freedom (cue the Jesus Jones song). At least in the West, that is. The Irony is not lost on me that I now make my home in the PRC.
As I promised Brigid, we found our way to Metallurgy. This part of the museum traced metal work from prehistoric times to the modern day. So there was art, and weapons, and processing---something for the whole family.
At the very beginning was this 100 kg block of iron. How many people who do not have a background in metal science or manufacturing can picture 100 kg (or whatever weight) of iron. It was absolutely the right thing to see first off, as the rest of the exhibit threw around weights and measures, and this could help people understand the processes better.
There was a chart illustrating the history of metal working. I took pictures of this in particular to use later in science and history.
The emphasis of this exhibit is on the development of metallurgy with the development of civilization, and for iron that meant sometimes more utilitarian than decorative.
I didn't get pictures, either, of the kids learning about some of the more modern technology, like roller mills and continuous casting. I was too busy talking to them about these things. I hate to admit that talking to Myles and Brigid about manufacturing feeds my vanity a little, but it does. It's like one area I can discuss with them with some degree of confidence, and not have to fall back on an online encyclopedia or a book to back me up.
There were some more hands-on activities for visitors of all ages, but, of course, they had special appeal to Brigid. First she got to dress up in protective gear like a real iron worker. While Brigid remarked that the apron made her too hot, I reminded her that people who had to wear it as part of their job worked around hot, molten metal.
Normally I find video games as part of a museum presentation to be pandering toward screen-addicted populations, but in this case, I thought it was very cool. The goal of the game was to achieve a perfect melt of iron. The player had to determine, based on parameters explained in the exhibit, the correct ratios and order of adding raw iron, lime, coke, and then the time of firing the furnace and allowing the molten iron to flow into the ingots.
The game gave feedback for failed attempts, like the iron couldn't get up to temperature because there was not enough coke, or there wasn't enough lime added so impurities stopped the flow. And then they could try again.
I liked how it showed how tricky the balance can be among the ingredients, and time, and temperature.
It was getting close to the closing time for the museum. We could have spent a few more hours there, easily. Randy's friend was right; it really was an outstanding model of a national science and technology museum. There was certainly an element of national pride and promotion, but there was also quite a bit of education on technology important commercially to the Czech Republic. I do enjoy the Gee Whiz! attitude of a lot of other science museums we have been to, but I also like the approach of the NTM.
There were no taxis to be found at Letná Hill, so we had to walk back down to the train station to retrieve our luggage. If you have to walk, though, at least it can look like this.
All that was left was supper that night near the Old Town Square (eating and drinking will be in separate posts again).
As we rushed past all these gorgeous places, I wanted to kick myself. Only one day in Prague? What was I thinking? Oh, sure, a hope that we will get to return, but also the promise to the Myels and Brigid we would spend the weekend at Legoland.
We were only planning one full day in Prague, and most of it without Randy because he would be at his appointment until late afternoon. There were things we had all seen before, like Prague Castle and St. Vitus Cathedral, and things the kids still hadn't seen that I really appreciated my first time in Prague, like the Jewish Quarter and the Loreta. So many choices!
With only one day ahead of us, then, what to do?
More after the jump
The balance I struck was first to go to the Charles Bridge (which I really cannot get too much of), and then followed that with the National Technology Museum (where we have never been).
In the morning while most tourists are still helping themselves to their hotels' breakfast buffet, the bridge can be relatively quiet and empty.
We could go right up to St. Jan Nepomucký without having to deal with multiple tour groups waiting their turns to rub his memorial for luck.
From there we walked to the National Technology Museum (in Czech Národní Muzeum Technologie). Google Maps told me it was not quite a thirty minute walk, which didn't sound too bad. We knew we would be doing a lot of walking this trip (we averaged five miles a day. Averaged). Of course, Google Maps' assumed pace was clearly much faster than ours. It ended up taking us an hour.
However, we did have some spectacular views of Prague Castle that I didn't recall seeing before.
The National Technology Museum is on Letná Hill. It has been in this building since 1941. The NTM hadn't really been on my list of must-sees, but an American friend of Randy's was there recently and described it to him as one of the best of its kind he had ever seen.
The Museum covers a wide range of science and technology topics--optics, astronomy, transportation, time-keeping, material science, and so on--not all of it necessarily modern and most with some sort of Czech perspective as well. Nearly all of the interpretive information was in Czech with complete (not abbreviated) translation in English. We got as much out of this museum as we would if we could read Czech.
There was a fascinating, 2-floor exhibit on photography, from the earliest days of Daguerreotypes up to digital technology and including development of moving pictures. In the collection was a valuable, original still life by Louis Daguerre himself. There were also examples, many of them Czech, of various technologies developed since the emerging days of photography. Unfortunately, I have few pictures of these parts of the exhibit because they weren't as interesting to Brigid.
What Brigid did want to spend her time on were the hands-on optics demonstrations. Myles took his turns with these, too, but he also was interested in reading all the notes on the walls.
From there we went into an area where I could have spent hours alone--transportation, and in particular, the cars.
Again, this collection highlighted important Czech developments in the technology as well as vehicles that had some significance in Czech history.
Like this 1893 Benz Victoria, the first automobile in Bohemia.
Next to it sat this 1898 NW Präsident, the first automobile built in a Czech factory.
This was when I (predictably, probably) pointed out to the kids that these don't look like cars as cars look today, and what do they resemble? Yes, kids, horse carriages.
And look, kids, how quickly the automobile industry gravitated toward this design. This 1909 Renault A/X was one of 323 cars registered in Prague by 1 March, 1910, and it looks more like a car than something you could hitch to a horse.
Myles and I went bonkers over this 1910 Bugatti 13. While other manufacturers were still only breaking out of the horse-and-buggy mold, Ettore Bugatti was building something incredible and legendary in Molsheim. My son and I kept going back and forth between this and the Renault, unable to fathom how this was on the road at the same time as the A/X. It is also the oldest preserved Bugatti in the world.
I mean, sigh.
This was a 1911 Audi 10/26 HP had an interesting story. The owner feared the army might requisition it when the Great War broke out. He disassembled it and concealed it in his attic to prevent that. After Armistice he did not bother to put it back together. It remained in his attic for forty years. After his death, it became part of the Museum's collection. So, not only is it the oldest Audi in existence in the world, it is in absolutely mint condition. Every single part on this car is original.
There were so many cars, either built in or imported into Czech lands, and every one of them with a story. A 1932 Jawa. A 1938 Jaguar. A 1935 Z-5 Express, the last owner of which was executed by the Nazis for his work in the resistance movement.
And then there was this car, a Mercedes Benz that illustrates volumes about the history of Czechoslovakia in the middle of the 20th century.
This 1939 Mercedes Benz 770 was the most expensive and luxurious car Daimler-Benz produced before the war. It was used by the Nazi commander in Norway, but eventually made its way after the war to Czechoslovakia for use at important state functions. After the communists took over in 1948, it was completely the wrong car for the government to use. It was fitted with a new non-imperialist body in 1952. Under that, it was still a Mercedes Benz.
By this time, Brigid was feeling fatigued from all the cars, so I took less pictures and just pushed Myles along. I tried to keep Brigid's cooperation (I had lost her attention) by promising her other areas in the museum we could visit when I was done with the cars. Astronomy? No! Umm, Chemistry? No! How about Metallurgy? Yes. So I bought a few more minutes of patience with the promise of metals.
It was a good thing, too, because the last car I saw gave me pause. It was just an anonymous looking 1989 Renault sedan, but looking at it I got a little lump in my throat, which surprised me. This humble four-door was a gift from the President of Portugal sent to the writer Václav Havel.
It was never meant to be a car for a the world's newest popularly-elected president, but everything happened so quickly after the Velvet Revolution. The Renault was delivered only hours before the election, and President Havel used it as his State Car for several months until the new government could get him something else.
Seeing that car there, and knowing its connections back to the late 80s and early 90s, a time of the Velvet Revolution, and the Fall of the Berlin Wall, and the first free elections in Poland, and possibly my being in my late teens at the time, I found it hard not to tear up a little. The world felt so different then, so hopeful about peace and freedom (cue the Jesus Jones song). At least in the West, that is. The Irony is not lost on me that I now make my home in the PRC.
As I promised Brigid, we found our way to Metallurgy. This part of the museum traced metal work from prehistoric times to the modern day. So there was art, and weapons, and processing---something for the whole family.
At the very beginning was this 100 kg block of iron. How many people who do not have a background in metal science or manufacturing can picture 100 kg (or whatever weight) of iron. It was absolutely the right thing to see first off, as the rest of the exhibit threw around weights and measures, and this could help people understand the processes better.
There was a chart illustrating the history of metal working. I took pictures of this in particular to use later in science and history.
The emphasis of this exhibit is on the development of metallurgy with the development of civilization, and for iron that meant sometimes more utilitarian than decorative.
I didn't get pictures, either, of the kids learning about some of the more modern technology, like roller mills and continuous casting. I was too busy talking to them about these things. I hate to admit that talking to Myles and Brigid about manufacturing feeds my vanity a little, but it does. It's like one area I can discuss with them with some degree of confidence, and not have to fall back on an online encyclopedia or a book to back me up.
There were some more hands-on activities for visitors of all ages, but, of course, they had special appeal to Brigid. First she got to dress up in protective gear like a real iron worker. While Brigid remarked that the apron made her too hot, I reminded her that people who had to wear it as part of their job worked around hot, molten metal.
Normally I find video games as part of a museum presentation to be pandering toward screen-addicted populations, but in this case, I thought it was very cool. The goal of the game was to achieve a perfect melt of iron. The player had to determine, based on parameters explained in the exhibit, the correct ratios and order of adding raw iron, lime, coke, and then the time of firing the furnace and allowing the molten iron to flow into the ingots.
The game gave feedback for failed attempts, like the iron couldn't get up to temperature because there was not enough coke, or there wasn't enough lime added so impurities stopped the flow. And then they could try again.
I liked how it showed how tricky the balance can be among the ingredients, and time, and temperature.
It was getting close to the closing time for the museum. We could have spent a few more hours there, easily. Randy's friend was right; it really was an outstanding model of a national science and technology museum. There was certainly an element of national pride and promotion, but there was also quite a bit of education on technology important commercially to the Czech Republic. I do enjoy the Gee Whiz! attitude of a lot of other science museums we have been to, but I also like the approach of the NTM.
There were no taxis to be found at Letná Hill, so we had to walk back down to the train station to retrieve our luggage. If you have to walk, though, at least it can look like this.
All that was left was supper that night near the Old Town Square (eating and drinking will be in separate posts again).
As we rushed past all these gorgeous places, I wanted to kick myself. Only one day in Prague? What was I thinking? Oh, sure, a hope that we will get to return, but also the promise to the Myels and Brigid we would spend the weekend at Legoland.
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