I dragged my friend Kim away from a scheduled tour of the Jewish quarter to accompany me. I bribed her by agreeing we could go by taxi. It was either that or Prague public transit -- Vyšehrad was too far from our hotel to walk -- and she mistrusted my ability to get us there without getting us lost.
Of course, the castle itself is long gone, thanks to the vicissitudes of war and time. But a lot of the fortress wall still exists. And rumor had it that somewhere on the grounds could be found a statue depicting the fateful meeting of Šárka and Ctirad.
The taxi driver dropped us at the entrance and we started off, with no real clue where we were going. Finally, after a walk along the river path brought us back to our entrance point, I broke out my guidebook map, and realized we had turned off the main road too soon. Another block, a left turn, and the spires of the Church of Saints Peter and Paul came into view.
As we meandered past the cemetery, I spotted some large statues in a park across the street from the church. Could it be...?
"So where's the jug?" Kim asked me. We circled the statue, and there it was, behind Our Hero. (It's in shadow, behind his left foot.)
Later, after a stroll through the cemetery, I did drag Kim onto the Prague Metro, and we found our next destination, the Alfons Mucha Museum, without too much trouble. (Kim, trying to get out of the Metro station: "Where's Vychod? I can't find it on the map!" Me: "It won't be on the map. 'Vychod' means 'exit'." At last, my Czech classes were good for something....)
Our vacation went on (eight countries in 14 days!), but I had achieved my goal: I had stalked Šárka in Prague, and I had found her. The rest, for me, was gravy.
Well, maybe goulash. That stuff is yummy.
I'm Lynne Cantwell, and I approve this blog post.