Sam was at work, and Helena and Isabel were out doing some shopping and other errands. So, I decided to go for a walk in Prague, which is the ideal city for indulging in that most ancient and mundane of pleasures.
When I don’t feel like going far, I sometimes do what I call to myself ‘the building inspection tour’ which means walking around and looking at all the construction sites happening in the neighborhood. There are a couple that are very near completion and one that has just begun, and it’s a bit like springtime. You can see changes everyday, and something new is emerging.
But today I felt like a longer walk. So, I started walking toward the center and you never go far until you see something surprising and new. They are doing repair work, at least, although I hope it’s a thorough renovation, on the Negrilleho Viaduct, which is the longest railroad bridge in the Czech Republic but doesn’t really look like it. The part of it that goes across the river doesn’t seem so long as it crosses an island in the middle, and the part of it that adds the length is it’s long run through a fairly grotty neighborhood and it only winds up on level ground just before Masarykovo Nadraži. It’s like a national monument and everything but it looks like shit. Then, as I carried on, I saw a man painting a mural on an obscure back wall of Florene Metro station. It was kind of interesting, sort of semi-abstract. A walk around Prague is often a walk around an art museum; a big, open air art museum.
I figured it was time to turn around and head home, so I headed toward the river and I was on the river path behind the Hilton when I saw a crowd of people marching, and heard music. Didn’t know what it was, but the crowd was huge and I thought I could see a few marijuana leaves, so I thought I’d go over and take a look. It was, indeed, the Million Marijuana March, and it was a very cool thing. There was a stage for live music and a lot of stands scattered around, T shirt stands, petition stands, info stands, legal cannabis product stands. There were old people, there were families there with little kids, and there were a lot of young hippies.
I was pleased. The 60s are still in the world, and may well be forever.