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For the Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ (formerly known as Corpus Christi), sv. Tomáš again had one of these joint Czech / Spanish / English liturgies. The reason for the joint liturgy was to ensure that we would have enough time for a procession after Mass:

We processed from sv. Tomáš to sv. Josef, which we entered and had a brief prayer and hymn in Spanish. From sv. Josef we went on to the Order of Malta church of Panna Marie Pod Retězem (Our Lady Beneath the Chain), where we switched to English for our prayer and hymn.

Aside: I’ve never heard of a devotion to "Our Lady Beneath the Chain". On Googling, the closest I could find was a devotion to Our Lady of the Chain, which originated at the end of the 14th century in Sicily, but apparently made it Malta early on. So I think this is just a confusion of prepositions.

The story in brief is of three young men condemned to die on the gallows. While awaiting their execution, in the church of St. Mary of the Port, they were chained, kept under guard, and the doors of the church were securely locked. That night, the guards that were on duty fell asleep and the three condemned men found themselves at the foot of an image of the Blessed Virgin Mary. They prayed fervently for deliverance. While they were praying, the chains mysteriously fell to the ground. The doors of the church opened by themselves, and they heard these words coming from the image of the Blessed Virgin: "Go, you are free, do not fear. The Divine Infant Whom I hold in my arms has heard your prayers and has granted your freedom." The prisoners silently walked out of the Church.

When the guards awakened, they went after and, finally, caught up with their prisoners. The men would have been chained again and taken away for execution, had it not been for the people who interceded for them with the King. The King, having heard what had happened, granted them their freedom, saying: "The Blessed Virgin Mary has set them free, so will I."

The final stop on our procession was the Infant of Prague church of Panny Marie Vítězné (Our Lady Victorious), where we finished up in Czech.

As on previous occasions when we’ve had processions, we gave the tourists a thrill.

So, casting about Saturday for something to do, I ran across a reference to a Japanese Spring Festival at Vyšehrad.

Curious, I headed out to Vyšehrad.

While searching for the clearing where the Festival was to take place, I ran across a playground:

There were some wooden sculptures scattered about, but I have no idea who (or what) they represent:

When I found the clearing, people were just milling around:

But soon, they set up the drums:

Next, the banner came out:

I have no idea what this was, but it was brought onto the field next:

Finally, the games began. We had some mock swordplay:

There was drumming:




Next, we had the archers:

The participants in these displays all appeared to be Czech; they did not at any rate appear to be Japanese. There was a platform set up at one end of the clearing, and after the first round of games, some Japanese men took their places on the platform:

The main participants were recognized:

And then, it looked as though it was all starting over again, beginning (or resuming) with the mock swordplay. So, I pretty much lost interest, and wandered off.

The clearing where the festival was taking place was right next to the Basilica of Sts. Peter and Paul:

Closeups of the icons of Sts. Paul and Peter (respectively) that appear to either side of the rose window:

A nearby building has Elizabeth of Bohemia (the sister of Václav III, who was assassinated at Olomouc, ending the male Přemyslid line, and the mother of Charles IV) looking out from a corner, though why precisely, I couldn’t say:

I wandered back to the clearing, and found that we were back to archery, so I continued my meandering and visited the cemetery adjoining the basilica. The grave of Milada Horáková was attracting the most visitors:

Mrs. Horáková had been a member of the Czech Resistance during WWII and spent time in Nazi prisons for her pains. She was subsequently an outspoken opponent of the Communist government, which executed her for treason in 1950. As a result, she is now considered a modern Czech heroine.

Even in death, (some) Czechs can be very particular about their titles, and you so you get "Dr", "MUDr", "JUDr" and "Ing" on the tombstones:

This tombstone simply pleased me: it’s highly distinctive:

I believe that this part of the cemetery is reserved for the convent:

And, looking over the cemetery to the basilica:

Returning to the clearing, we were on drumming again. So I gradually wandered my way out of Vyšehrad. I didn’t know what this was when I photographed it, but it appears that nowadays at least it’s being used as a gardening shed:

I’m sure that it must have been built for something else, but who knows what?

And just a final shot, looking across to Prague Castle from Vyšehrad:

I don’t know if it was related to the feast of John of Nepomuk on Friday, but on Saturday, sv. Ignace was holding a fair at Karlovo Náměstí. There was a swing set for the kiddies:

And a pony ride (I wanna ride a pony!):

There were craft booths:

And this being Prague, of course there was beer. And not just any beer, but Pilsner Urquell:

Of course, some people were content to just sit back and watch:

Legend has it that St. John of Nepomuk was martyred by Václav IV of Bohemia (AKA Václav the Drunkard) because the king, believing that his wife was cheating on him, tried to force her confessor, John of Nepomuk, to violate the seal of the confessional. Most reputable sources think that the real reason had to do with a power struggle, with John of Nepomuk thwarting the king’s attempt to hand over the abbacy of a wealthy monastery to a candidate of the king’s choosing. A much less interesting story. According to Wikipedia, "John of Nepomuk is seen by Catholics as a martyr to the cause of defending the Seal of the Confessional, by romantic nationalists as a Czech martyr to imperial interference, and by most historians as a victim of a late version of the inveterate investiture controversy between secular rulers and the catholic hierarchy." He is at any rate very popular, and there’s scarcely a (Catholic) church in Prague without a statue or altar dedicated to him.

His feast is May 16 and it’s celebrated by a joint vesper service with the church of sv. Tomáš and the church of St Francis on the other side of the river, and I attended this year’s service. After vespers at sv. Tomáš, the two congregations made a solemn procession across Charles Bridge:

The procession stopped at the statue of St John of Nepomuk to commemorate his martyrdom:

We ended up at the church of St. Francis for a closing benediction.

As at Palm Sunday, the tourists were fascinated by this quaint custom and pictures aplenty were taken.

May 8 is a holiday in the Czech Republic (as it is in France and elsewhere) celebrating the Day of Liberation (the end of the 2nd World War). Since it fell on a Thursday, I persuaded (without great difficulty) my Friday classes to forego their lessons on the 9th, and visited Olomouc for a long weekend.

Why Olomouc?

Much as I like Prague, I’d really like to try living elsewhere in the Czech Republic. When I started asking around for alternate places to live, Olomouc was one of the names that cropped up most often. The second largest city in the Czech Republic, Brno, was usually dismissed as an unattractive industrial city that I would find boring. Olomouc, on the other hand, is a university town (of its population of 100,000, an estimated 20,000 are students). Olomouc’s main claim to fame these days is the Holy Trinity Column, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Historically, Olomouc was the capital of Moravia (although Brno now claims that distinction). It is also where Václav III, the last of the Přemyslid kings, was assasinated on his way to Poland to claim the Polish crown.

Sightseeing

Besides the Holy Trinity Column, Olomouc’s other main claim to fame is the Astrological Clock at City Hall:

The clock itself is centuries old, although the mosaics surrounding it date from the Communist era. Olomouc has suffered the mosaics to remain because, despite the political implications, it really is quite stunning art work.

Olomouc is also noted for its fountains. There’s the Cæsar fountain:

It’s not as unlikely as it seems: the ancient tradition is that Olomouc was founded by Julius Caesar and indeed the name of the city is a corruption of "Julius’s Mont". And archaeological findings under what is now sv. Michael’s church in fact confirm a Roman presence.

The relatively recent Arion fountain is a great favorite, especially because of the turtle sculpture that adjoins it:

The Hercules fountain shares plaza space with the Holy Trinity Column:

Besides the Holy Trinity Column, there’s a Marian plague column, erected by plague survivors to celebrate their survival:

There’s a little bit of the former Yugoslavia just outside the old city walls:

It was built to provide a resting space for Yugoslav soldiers killed during World War I, and, much like an embassy, the government gave the land to the government of Yugoslavia. The remains of the soldiers were subsequently repatriated sometime when Tito was on the outs with the Czechoslovak government, and the crypt fell into disrepair. The Olomouc city officials have recently persuaded one of the new countries that was formed by the dissolution of Yugoslavia to take responsibility for the (now empty) crypt, so with luck it will be spruced up soon.

The Church

The cathedral in Olomouc is sv. Václav:

The chapter house of the cathedral is where Václav III was assassinated:

I was in Olomouc over Pentecost, so I attended Mass at the cathedral on Sunday. Fittingly enough, they were celebrating Confirmation that weekend: about two dozen adults were confirmed. I noticed that those attending Mass were rather more formally dressed than I’ve been accustomed to in churches here, but maybe that was just because it was the cathedral or because of the Confirmations. The area immediately adjacent to the main altar is mostly kept locked if there isn’t a service, so there’s a chapel off the outer nave where the Sacrament is reserved. I also noticed that people stopped to genuflect in front of that chapel as they were entering and leaving the main altar area.

The Archdiocesan Museum adjoins the cathedral:

It’s a little surprising to me that, after 40 years of Communist suppression, the Church still has any treasures left. And actually, it does sometimes seem to me that the "jewels" in monstrances and the like are only cut glass (although that could be a security measure).

I also visited the Basilica of the Visitation on Holy Hill, a major (well, major for the Czech Republic) pilgrimage destination:

While the main entrance has been repainted, they haven’t (yet anyway) attended to the back or sides:

It put me in mind of an old Peanuts cartoon: Linus is showing off his newly shined shoes to Lucy, and as he turns to go, Lucy points out that he has only shined the fronts of his shoes, and not the backs. Linus replies that he cares what people think about him only when he’s arriving, not when he’s going.

St. John Sarkander

The closest thing that Olomouc has to a home grown saint is John Sarkander, who is venerated as a "martyr of the confessional". He was accused of treason by Protestant leaders and tortured partially due to his refusal to divulge what was said in confession. He died as a result of the torture, and the prison where he was held has since been converted into a chapel in his honor:

There’s also an altar with his relics in the cathedral. Although he died in 1620 and a cause for his canonization was started soon afterwards, he wasn’t beatified until 1860, and he was canonized only in 1995 by Pope John Paul II.

Dance

The Moravian Theater is the home for ballet and opera as well as drama. While I was there, the ballet was performing The Beatles and Queen, which sounded like an intriguing combination, especially for a ballet.

The music was presented (more or less) chronologically and the dance mimed the history of each group. It was very lively and went over well with the audience.

Haná Cuisine

I don’t really know enough about Czech cuisine to speak authoritatively on the differences between Bohemian and Moravian cooking, but I did notice a few little differences. Garlic soup, for example, is much heartier in Moravia; it includes ham and poached egg. And I was surprised by the "Chicken à la Duck": yes, the menu said it would be accompanied by sweet and sour cabbage, but I was expecting red cabbage, whereas this was white cabbage. And generally, white cabbage was more popular here than the red, whereas in Prague, it always seems to be red cabbage.

Olomouc’s Cafe 87 also has the only chocolate dessert that I’ve found worth eating in the Czech Republic: a bittersweet chocolate pie. The other chocolate desserts I’ve encountered in the Czech Republic have seemingly been based on milk chocolate and poor quality milk chocolate at that. Most baked goods also seem stale, or maybe Czechs just like their pastries on the dry side, but they’re not to my taste.

I also tried (I think!) the famed Olomouc stinky cheese, but I was seriously disappointed. The aroma was very mild and not particularly unpleasant; the flavor was unremarkable; and the texture was very waxy. In fact, after the first bite, I took another look to make sure that I hadn’t overlooked a rind or wax covering that I was supposed to remove first! I tried asking the waitress if there had been a mistake, but unfortunately, neither her English nor my Czech was up to the task. So I don’t know if I was (inadvertently perhaps) cheated or if Olomouc stinky cheese really does not live up to its reputation.

The Joys of Czech Trains

I was seriously unprepared for the business of traveling by train over a holiday weekend. There are several trains a day between Prague and Olomouc, so I didn’t figure that, even for a holiday weekend, I would need to book in advance, and buying a ticket on Thursday was no problem. When I got on the train, though, not only was every seat taken, but the aisles and vestibules were also crowded. I was "lucky" enough to be able to claim a stairwell in the vestibule, but mostly I stood for the three-hour trip to Olomouc.

I wasn’t in a mood to repeat that for the return trip, so I made a seat reservation. The return train, though, had originated in Kraków and passed through Ostrava before getting to Olomouc so it was already standing room only. There was such a crush of people boarding I couldn’t stop to look for my seat until we were already underway, at which point, I found that I was at the opposite end of the car (fortunately I was at least in the right car!). Looking at the mass of people and luggage crowding the aisle, I was going to give up. However, the two very nice Czech ladies who were trying to get me oriented weren’t having any of that and handed me over to the conductor. The conductor went off with my ticket, leaving me no choice but to follow, stepping over my fellow passengers with many an apology.

When we located my seat it was, of course, occupied, and by a woman with a child sleeping in her lap. Fortunately, the man in the seat opposite chivalrously gave up his seat (and stood for 90 minutes to Pardubice) so that I wasn’t in the awkward position of having to oust a mother and child from my place.

Moral of the story: next time I travel on a summer weekend, I’m not only booking my seat in advance, I’m also going first class!

What Else?

I took way more pictures, but they don’t really fit into the narrative, so there’s a supplemental slideshow.

And it really is true that once you get outside of Prague, people don’t speak as much English. German is popular, which makes sense since the Czech Republic is bordered half-way around by German-speaking countries, and in Olomouc, Polish is reasonably popular, which again makes sense. But not a lot of English.