A Summer Pause in Prague: Part I

 5 + 1/2 min. read

(c) Eduard Delputte

I’m back in Eastern Europe for another birthday getaway and sooner than I thought. After coming away feeling ambiguous about my second visit to my once-beloved Croatia in summer 2024, I’d planned to switch gears and attend a Jazz festival in Southern France that’s been on my wishlist for decades. One look at the train ticket prices was enough to change my mind. For that cost, I could pay for a flight ticket to a number of destinations elsewhere in Europe and still have something left over for accommodation.

A long-held latent interest in Prague thus returns to mind. I’ve heard only good things. It’s often spoken of in the same breath as Budapest, of which I retain pleasant memories. The Czechian capital it is, then. As usual, I book myself on some tours. I also research the city’s vibrant live Jazz scene which must have also been lying dormant in my subconscious. In addition, the head of my church home group, Monika, is a Prague native. She sends me a useful list of must-sees (many of which are already on my itinerary) and, just as important, the best places to eat at a reasonable price.

I purchase some Czech koruna and board a Saturday afternoon flight to Prague via Frankfurt. The forecast for my week-ish excursion East is mixed, although the sun is supposed to win out. It’s certainly not the case when I arrive. The overcast skies make good on their ominous grey and the heavens open, just as I reach my accommodation. Printed map in hand, it’s not much use when the signposting isn’t obvious. So close but yet so far, I walk around aimlessly in the rain until I ask a kindly young English-speaking woman for help. In terms of hospitality - so far, so good. It’s already an improvement on the bus journey one year earlier to my accommodation near Split. Nobody pays me much attention. I am pleasantly surprised to see a black woman with her baby - and not a tourist - en route. It won’t be the only time. Prague is more diverse than I anticipated.

I’m welcomed at the Airbnb by Nina, the daughter of my host, Lyda. She speaks English, her mother does not.

 Nina will be joined by a sturdy young man whom I assume is her beau.  As much as I’d rather not compete for bathing and toilet facilities, I also feel less isolated sharing a space with others. 

The streets of Prague (c) Eugenia Pankiv

The flat is hidden away on the equivalent of a vast council estate built during the Communist era, Monika informs me. It might not be very close to the city centre but it’s well connected, and according to her, a more authentic experience of Prague. 

Inside, the premises are bright and clean as the online description suggests, immediately putting my mind at ease.

I’m reluctant to go back out in the rain for food but needs must. Fortunately, that good old Soviet-influenced work ethic is in my favour. The local supermarket closes at 10pm. It’s adjacent to a shopping precinct with a branch of budget German drugstore, DM as well as the equally versatile transnational Dutch chain, Action. I’m a happy woman.

The next day is a tranquil Sunday full of sleep, livestreamed sermons, Netflix and YouTube. I’m exhausted. It’s as if the past few months of activity are still catching up with me. I have an itinerary but have factored in chunks of rest. Today, the only things on my list are dinner, and perhaps checking out the Sunday night jam at Jazz club, U Malého Glena.

It’s a lovely weather day, alas, forecast to be the best my week in Prague has to offer.

I dine at Lokál; a farm-to-plate gastro-pub serving traditional Czech cuisine, as recommended by Monika. With several sites across the city, I choose the one closest to the Jazz club.

Image courtesy of Prague's Pub and Beer Guide

Making unplanned detours, trying to locate Lokál, I catch a glimpse of Prague city centre and the Old Town. I’m already charmed by the little I’ve seen.

Finally reaching restaurant, as I wait in line to be seated, a fellow cuts in front of me. The sullen waiter says nothing. As I’m shown to my seat, I hiss at the interloper ‘There was a queue!’. More fool him. I end up with a nicer seat overlooking the street.

Whilst I’m tucking into some flavoursome braised beef, bread dumplings and salad, the same character comes round to clarify what I said to him. Now I have my food, I’m relaxed and I patiently explain my gripe.

‘I didn’t see you’ he says, and blames it on dropped blood sugar levels. It turns into quite a convivial conversation. He introduces himself as Mehmet, from Turkey. We arrived in Prague at the same time - the day before - but he’s already anxious to return to Istanbul. Mehmet is keen for me to visit his native city and asks for my details before he leaves. He laters pops up as a follower on my LinkedIn page.

The service at Lokál is very speedy and my waitress is attentive and polite. Once I settle the bill, I head straight to U Malého Glena for the Sunday night jam. It’s an intimate space, resembling a converted wine cellar. There’s hardly any room in the main performance area. Overflow punters therefore look-on from the bar, with a TV screen overhead of the stage.

A quartet led by an alto saxophonist - the sole female in the band - open with their own slick set, before the jam begins. 

Meanwhile, I get speaking to a Jacob Collier-lookalike called Isaak. He’s a little familiar with the Brussels’ Jazz scene, having been interested in studying Jazz guitar there at one time. He’s here to support his tutor who’s playing with the houseband. He’s my favourite guitarist, Isaak gushes.

We talk Jazz guitar favourites, general musical taste and Isaak’s preferred music venues in Prague. When I mention his resemblance to Mr Collier, Isaak laughs knowingly. He whips out his phone to show a picture of him and the man himself taken several years ago in Spain. Isaak is a mere teenager in the photo. He said Collier had inspired his own decision to go into music full time. Isaak found out Jacob was playing Barcelona at the time and flew out hoping to meet him. The gamble paid off.

U Malého Glena Jazz club (image courtesy of Valnupried)

The saxophone-led quartet is supposed to host the jam but they all vanish. Instead Leslie, an elderly African-American jazz singer, takes over. He kicks of the evening with renditions of But Beautiful and Just in Time. After his set, I hop on to perform with the constantly rotating musicians. I err towards songs that are familiar enough without being cliché. This time I opt for two safe bets from my repertoire; Que Insensatez and Stella by Starlight. 

The instrumentalists seem pleased with my choices, even if it’s a mostly tough crowd. Nothing new I suppose, for a Jazz gig.  A couple of pianists commend my performance. I admit, I get off to a shaky start (the more seasoned Leslie tries to coach me from the sidelines on how to instruct the musicians). It therefore means a lot (more than it should) to have the approbation of Jazz instrumentalists. They’re not easily pleased. One of them, Alastair, is a Brit who’s been based in Prague for years. Likewise, Leslie has spent several decades in the Czech Republic. 

Alastair tells me it’s an unusually busy night for the jam. It must be the high tourist season, I hypothesise. Amidst the broad variety of instrumentalists there are also a few vocalists, for a change. Some musicians stand out amongst the typically high standard. An assured and dynamic young pianist, for instance. Isaak’s guitar solos are also enjoyable (if on the epic side).

I feel upbeat. My first proper night in Prague and I’ve already made it through to one of the many Jazz venues.  A certifiably good evening.

Soundtrack: Maravilhosa Bem (album) by Julia Mestre; Mutt by Leon Thomas; One Night in Prague by Benny Sings

Part II & III