The sun already had its legs halfway across the threshold of night when we retraced our steps through Charles Bridge. We went up to the castle complex by the same way as the first night while I snatched up a few more signs.
The moon was high when we reached the hilltop. A cross in the sky was fading as new lines were drawn. That was not a shooting star.
By many beautiful buildings we passed. There were galleries and exhibition in several of them. Under a long arching corridors, a young silent monk in brown robes strode on purposefully. On the opposite road, there was an old church building. A tall cross still adorned the stairways leading up to its elevated entrance. The perfect semblance assumed by the building to its former purposes was only in form. Above the head of Jesus a banner hung, advertising the fates of the hotel. This was no more the house of God.
Down the slope from the Calvary decorated hotel, we noticed Petřín Hill across a wooded vale. A large group of colorful teenagers were pouring forth from the hill towards the valley below. There were tourists among their midst with cameras and tripods in tow. We hugged a bend directly in the shadows of Strahov Monastery (Strahovsky klaster), overlooking the castle.
After ascending flights of well kept stairs, the gorgeous multicolored frame of Petřínská rozhledna or Petřín lookout tower emerged from the silhouette of resounding trees.
We climbed Eiffel Tower's shorter sister, which was higher than her because of the sizable hill on which it stood and were treated to some good vistas of the Czech capital. The helix-shaped twin stairs coiling around the tower's core weren't too bad. We needn't huff and puff like the Big Bad Wolf to reach the top. However, the merciless wind was the killer. You won't feel your ears if you remained up there too long.
Westward, I saw the last flush of red gave way to utter black.
From the tower, we went back across Charles Bridge, pass a watermill spinning steadily. Many smart seagulls roosted in straight unerring lines around blinding spotlights pointing at the pedestrians.
We ended our day in the streets near Old Town Square. The souvenirs were so diverse that I was very sure everyone can find something they want. While not too much into crystals and jewelries, I was deeply fascinated by the marionettes, puppets and wooden toys, they depicted characters from witches on broomsticks, innocent boys and girls, demons and ogre, fairy and angels, politicians and celebrities, all the way to the Holy Family. Many shops were also adorned by the Mole or Krtek, as originally named.
Another interesting thing is how almost everywhere we went, shop promoters would greet us with 'Konnichiwa!' After the 50th time being greeted this way, my reaction started to slip from mild bemusement to veiled annoyance. There must be a very healthy population of Japanese tourists there or all Asians were Japanese to them. I don't fancy myself too Japanese-looking or behaving in any way. But wait - maybe I should blame the camera around my neck.This brought me to venture an personal observation - about the difference between Vienna compared to Prague and Edinburgh. I felt the latter cities were extremely aggressive in promoting and marketing their culture. They milk their 'unique selling points' most fully. To a certain extend, it was almost as if an extensive part of city was built on tourism.
Endless rows of souvenirs shops selling all things Scottish predominated all other shops on Edinburgh's Royal Mile with advertisements for guided tours to the highland nestled between them. Bagpipe musics were played and heard, by both live street musicians or the blaring stereo in the shops. In Prague it was the same. picking up a stone and throwing it randomly would likely hit the window of its countless souvenir shops. It was way harder to find a convenient store for a bottle than to get crystals, toys, key chains and other memorabilia of Prague.
Not so with Vienna. Despite its many tourists, it did not felt touristy to me at all. The impression I got was that tourists were mere annoyance to the locals. We were never part of that proud culture and they refused to extend their haughty hands to us outsiders. They made no effort to hide their contempt for us, if they even acknowledge our existence. There were some friendly and helpful Viennese, but these angels from heaven were few and far between.
It wasn't too hard to receive a warm smile if you first greeted other strangers in Scotland. I even got to fulfill one of my dreams which was to pet a Husky, at a traffic light and got licked by the stranger's regal dog's pink warm tongue. Those in Prague spared no effort in showering you with their attention, with hopes of your patronage. We met 'Konnichiwa!' on many streets. In Vienna, we were ghost, unseen by local eyes. The locals went about their business often completely ignoring your greetings. It was such a cold culture compared to the former, almost befitting the stone statues adorning their classical buildings they were so famous for.
Some would argue about the authenticity of the touristy experience. It could have been a facade put up to present themselves and merely a projected image of what they wanted us, the tourists to see. Is the Viennese more authentic that way? I will refrain from writing a thesis on the authenticity of tourist experience here.
Sufficient to say. I felt more welcomed in Edinburgh and Prague. Just for me, I do not believe in the possibility of the existence of an unauthentic city. If the effort to lure tourists and to sell their culture is deliberate. Then that deliberateness is no less true than those who would rather not do it. Does it matter if as a wolf I don sheepskin and walk on the street everyday? Am I being an unauthentic wolf or a fake sheep? I would be inclined to call myself a fully authentic wolf who don sheepskin and walks the street, not any less true than a wolf tho choose not to don sheepskin and sheep that are not wolf to begin with.
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