I am going to send you yesterday's email after today, anachronistically, as I have tons of notes for yesterday's email, while my impressions from today are fresher in my mind (though not at fresh as they were a few hours ago). I started my day out, predictably, by missing the train to Karlstejn. I slept through my alarm, fell into conversation with someone over breakfast, and got to the train station just as the train was leaving; having gotten more comfortable with train travel, and having therefore ceased to worry about not getting where I am going if I miss a connection or two, I have grown more lax about catching trains and often miss them these days. I walked to a part of Prague that I had not yet seen and was reminded that any given hundred square meters of this city are worth more than the whole rest of Eastern Europe combined. I regret, in fact, having wasted so much time in the rest of Eastern Europe, as I could have used that time doing something worthwhile, like seeing Belgium or Northern France, but I could not have known that without having seen it; one cannot predict, with perfect accuracy, which of one's travel destinations will be the most interesting.
My arrival in Karlstejn was unspectacular. The views on the way there were fine, and the walk leading up to the castle was quite pleasant. Parts of the walkway from the train station to the castle are, naturally, lined with all manner of cafes, restaurants, and souvenir shops, and the entire walkway has decent signage. When I got to the castle (which is not called Karlstejn; that is the near of the town nearest to it), I discovered that I would have to wait for an hour and a half in order to tour it, as all of the tours until 2:00 PM were sold out. I gave up on the castle and decided to start walking immediately towards Svaty Jan Pod Skalou, the monastery at the foot of a cliff, as I had already seen the exterior of the castle, and the walk to the monastery was at least half of the point of the trip; one of the few intelligent things that I did on my 2010 trip to Europe was to visit the castle at Montreux, which gave me a good idea of what castles in general were like in the Middle Ages. Seeing one more of the dozens of castles in this part of the world would not have significantly enlightened me.
The hike from the castle at Karlstejn to Svaty Jan Pod Skalou was both frustrating and picturesque. While the incredibly-dense forests of deciduous trees, through which one could not see any sky at all, were something that I had not seen before, the path to the monastery was marked only in the most exiguous fashion, and it included passing over fallen logs (which are a universal symbol of a trail's being closed or no longer in use. The Czechs, having not yet discovered symbols, do not know this.) multiple times. There was enough human activity in the area, although one could walk for thirty minutes without seeing anyone, that there was little risk of my being eaten by a bear, though I would recommend that people look up such risks before going on hiking trips; my only real note from the hike is that, while it is possible to hike in sandals, it is easier in hiking boots.
My arrival at Svaty Jan Pod Skalou was disappointing. Firstly, it was unmarked, much like parts of the trail itself; secondly, it was an ugly monastery and was not actually built into the side of the cliff, but merely stationed next to it. The cave attached to the monastery was not, as I had been expecting, filled with separate rooms of worship full of glittering objects and lit by candles, but was, rather, one large room with a few rough divisions, in which were housed various dusty, old rocks. The rocks of which I speak were said to have significance because of having been connected with the life of Svaty Jan (Saint John): they included a boulder on which he was said to have bled when he was beaten up by a pastor, a boulder that presumably included the imprint of his hand, a boulder on which he had sat down to meditate, and so on. While the practice of fetishizing objects that may, potentially, have been connected with the life of someone hundreds of years ago in some obscure way was ridiculous, but even more ridiculous, to me, was the idea of worshipping someone who shut himself up from society in a cave to meditate. It seems to me that all societal progress is achieved collectively, as evidenced by artists', architects', scholars', engineers', and statesmen's having lived predominately in cultural centers before the advent of convenient worldwide communication; societal advancement requires that we have intercourse with one another (consider the propagation of the Arabic system of numerals, the exchange of ideas and customs via trade along spice routes, &c.). Rather than worshipping a hermit, whose soul achievement was to consider himself (or be considered - whichever) more holy than the rest of us, and carefully conserving the stones on which he sat, we should worship Martin Luther King, Jr. and Mahatma Gandhi and disseminate their ideas about fraternity, equality, non-violence, and open political discourse. Hermits are not going to lead us to a brighter future and do not accomplish much of anything that ordinary people cannot accomplish if they decide to break off from society.
The walk to Beroun, the town in which I ended my hike, was a bit of a letdown compared to the walk to the monastery, which took me passed brooks and little waterfalls, as, after an initial climb, it principally took me through flat and uninteresting terrain. When I got to Beroun, I found myself at the edge of a very ugly, industrial town, with no train station in sight. I walked up to a woman who was approaching her car and asked her which way it was to the train station. She had a hard time answering, though she gestured vaguely in its direction before evidently thinking, "Screw it," as she said, "I'll take you." I checked my sandals for mud, got in the car with her, and was driven through town to the train station.
The drive to the train station was completely unremarkable save for the fact that a complete stranger was going out of her way to drive me across town for no reward beyond the knowledge that she was a good Samaritan; while I still consider the Czech Republic a wretched (i.e., not very developed) country, my opinion of Czech people is now quite high. My day, as a whole, was fairly interesting, as the hike was a good change of pace from ordinary sightseeing and demonstrated, yet again, that there is nothing to see in Eastern Europe outside of Prague. One wishes that it were in better hands, as there might not be dog excrement on the sidewalks and graffiti on every square inch of every building if it belonged to the Germans or Austrians, but perhaps something distinctively Czech about it (whatever that means) might be lost if it were ceded to another country. I made my first dinner from the groceries that I bought the other day; I have enough food to last me until tomorrow, after which I will continue eating out, which is worth the money here. I have found it strangely difficult to find fresh fruit in Prague, though I got some very good cherries today (in a store that principally sold alcohol - go figure) for more money than they were worth and plan to do the same tomorrow, as cherries would go well with the cottage cheese that I bought yesterday, providing a valuable supplement to the peas and tortellini that I will be eating. Peas have become my go-to vegetable for dinners that I make myself on these trips, as they contain some of the same nutrients as spinach, which I consider to be the king of all vegetables in terms of salubrity, but which I do make abroad, as I fear its turning into a mushy mass that I will not be able to finish in the end, and they do not require any preparation (except for the addition of a bit of salt to them, when possible). I guess that my review of my day is that my first pilgrimage may turn out to have been my last; I am not that much into received saints. Perhaps people who have made an actual difference in this world will one day be worshipped (or, better yet, appreciated) as hermits are today!
The hike from the castle at Karlstejn to Svaty Jan Pod Skalou was both frustrating and picturesque. While the incredibly-dense forests of deciduous trees, through which one could not see any sky at all, were something that I had not seen before, the path to the monastery was marked only in the most exiguous fashion, and it included passing over fallen logs (which are a universal symbol of a trail's being closed or no longer in use. The Czechs, having not yet discovered symbols, do not know this.) multiple times. There was enough human activity in the area, although one could walk for thirty minutes without seeing anyone, that there was little risk of my being eaten by a bear, though I would recommend that people look up such risks before going on hiking trips; my only real note from the hike is that, while it is possible to hike in sandals, it is easier in hiking boots.
My arrival at Svaty Jan Pod Skalou was disappointing. Firstly, it was unmarked, much like parts of the trail itself; secondly, it was an ugly monastery and was not actually built into the side of the cliff, but merely stationed next to it. The cave attached to the monastery was not, as I had been expecting, filled with separate rooms of worship full of glittering objects and lit by candles, but was, rather, one large room with a few rough divisions, in which were housed various dusty, old rocks. The rocks of which I speak were said to have significance because of having been connected with the life of Svaty Jan (Saint John): they included a boulder on which he was said to have bled when he was beaten up by a pastor, a boulder that presumably included the imprint of his hand, a boulder on which he had sat down to meditate, and so on. While the practice of fetishizing objects that may, potentially, have been connected with the life of someone hundreds of years ago in some obscure way was ridiculous, but even more ridiculous, to me, was the idea of worshipping someone who shut himself up from society in a cave to meditate. It seems to me that all societal progress is achieved collectively, as evidenced by artists', architects', scholars', engineers', and statesmen's having lived predominately in cultural centers before the advent of convenient worldwide communication; societal advancement requires that we have intercourse with one another (consider the propagation of the Arabic system of numerals, the exchange of ideas and customs via trade along spice routes, &c.). Rather than worshipping a hermit, whose soul achievement was to consider himself (or be considered - whichever) more holy than the rest of us, and carefully conserving the stones on which he sat, we should worship Martin Luther King, Jr. and Mahatma Gandhi and disseminate their ideas about fraternity, equality, non-violence, and open political discourse. Hermits are not going to lead us to a brighter future and do not accomplish much of anything that ordinary people cannot accomplish if they decide to break off from society.
The walk to Beroun, the town in which I ended my hike, was a bit of a letdown compared to the walk to the monastery, which took me passed brooks and little waterfalls, as, after an initial climb, it principally took me through flat and uninteresting terrain. When I got to Beroun, I found myself at the edge of a very ugly, industrial town, with no train station in sight. I walked up to a woman who was approaching her car and asked her which way it was to the train station. She had a hard time answering, though she gestured vaguely in its direction before evidently thinking, "Screw it," as she said, "I'll take you." I checked my sandals for mud, got in the car with her, and was driven through town to the train station.
The drive to the train station was completely unremarkable save for the fact that a complete stranger was going out of her way to drive me across town for no reward beyond the knowledge that she was a good Samaritan; while I still consider the Czech Republic a wretched (i.e., not very developed) country, my opinion of Czech people is now quite high. My day, as a whole, was fairly interesting, as the hike was a good change of pace from ordinary sightseeing and demonstrated, yet again, that there is nothing to see in Eastern Europe outside of Prague. One wishes that it were in better hands, as there might not be dog excrement on the sidewalks and graffiti on every square inch of every building if it belonged to the Germans or Austrians, but perhaps something distinctively Czech about it (whatever that means) might be lost if it were ceded to another country. I made my first dinner from the groceries that I bought the other day; I have enough food to last me until tomorrow, after which I will continue eating out, which is worth the money here. I have found it strangely difficult to find fresh fruit in Prague, though I got some very good cherries today (in a store that principally sold alcohol - go figure) for more money than they were worth and plan to do the same tomorrow, as cherries would go well with the cottage cheese that I bought yesterday, providing a valuable supplement to the peas and tortellini that I will be eating. Peas have become my go-to vegetable for dinners that I make myself on these trips, as they contain some of the same nutrients as spinach, which I consider to be the king of all vegetables in terms of salubrity, but which I do make abroad, as I fear its turning into a mushy mass that I will not be able to finish in the end, and they do not require any preparation (except for the addition of a bit of salt to them, when possible). I guess that my review of my day is that my first pilgrimage may turn out to have been my last; I am not that much into received saints. Perhaps people who have made an actual difference in this world will one day be worshipped (or, better yet, appreciated) as hermits are today!
My damned camera flipped Svaty Jan Pod Skalou upside-down.
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