It was Yujing’s last morning in Prague and Sijia was leaving in the afternoon, so we didn’t do too much in the morning. After seeing Yujing off at the train station, Sijia and I walked to Wenceslas Square. We stopped by the Statue, where the MJ memorial had grown a lot bigger than two day ago. Fans sent in flowers and their condolences to the legendary King of Pop. Some of them dressed MJ style and simply sit by the memorial to relish the glorious moment, being it either the tunes or the dances, probably both. Photos of MJ, copies of old archive paper, even his concert tickets reflected in the candle lights. Some of the words left by were very emotional to read through. The good time long ago felt like only yesterday.
We had McFlurry at the MacDonald’s at the square. A trivia I learned, from there, was that they charge for ketchups at MacDonald’s in Czech. We somehow decided to see the Dancing House before Sijia was leaving. Running out of the subway stations and having a look at the building for 10 seconds (maybe 15, not too much exaggerating), we cut the time so close that Sijia caught her train less than 2 minutes before it left. Coming back to the city after the hasty chase, I dived into some quiet streets in the city before walking along the riverside to the National Theatre. It was a beautiful building with golden roof. It so felt like the theatre to be in so, although it was almost closing time on a Sunday evening, I decided to go in the box office to check out what kind of shows were usually played there. I chatted with one person working there and he introduced me to their websites and all different programs they were running, which ranged from Opera, to Ballet, to Orchestra, and others. They all sounded like high-quality shows. Well, after all, it’s the National Theatre. In the end of our conversation, with no serious intention at all, I asked: “I’m only here for two more nights. Is there anything going on tonight or tomorrow night?” The guy replied: “Yes. There is a Jazz Opera tonight with English subtitles. And, ......” “How much does it cost to go to the Jazz Opera?” I was still just asking for information. “If you don’t mind sitting on the top, it’s 300 Czech Koruna, ..., the cheapest is 100 Koruna.” He obviously recognized I was a budget traveller who couldn’t afford too much. “We are closing now. But if you want to go, you can still get the tickets from the box office at the theatre before the show.” 100 Koruna, 4 Euros?! For an opera show at the National Museum of Czech Republic in Prague?! I WAS trying to find a fair-priced classic concert or something like that in a church or somewhere because Prague felt like THE place to enjoy a show in that genre. But I never imagined going there because I thought I would need to pay big bucks to just have a visit inside this grand theatre. Almost without hesitation in a blink of an eye, I was 90% sure I was going to this thing, not forgetting to ask one more question: “What’s the dress code for the show?” The guy looked reluctant but didn’t want to turn me down (or make that money from an extra seat), “You should be OK if you are sitting at the top level.” I thanked him and got a plan for the evening.
With still 2 hours time to the show, I decided to walk across the river to find the cherry orchard Caymin told me to check out. I passed by an intriguing group of sculpture dedicated to the victims of communism. With Caymin’s detailed description (she even drew a picture of it), I easily found the orchard slope on the north side of the funicular. That place became as my daily fruit supply, for free. I also had another angle of view toward the Castle. I was planning to get back to the hostel and put on at least a pair of long pants, but the hostel was further than I thought from the Theatre, so I had to give up the plan for food and turn back to get into the show before it started. There I went, with a pair of shorts, a dirty t-shirt, and a backpack, I walked into the stunning National Theatre where everyone else around me was all fully dressed up like where it should be. The security guard and service personnels all stared at me and surely wondered what this bum was doing here. I wasn’t there to teach them a lesson that people should not be judged by their looking and I certainly understood I should not dress cheaply like that to go into that place. All I could think of was “What the hell, I got what I wanted and I would never know any of you again.” So I bought the ticket and quickly sneaked onto the stairs leading up to the top floor. Trust me, the time in the theatre was not easy to me at all for any second. The place was simply so elegantly decorated that my inappropriate outfit could not fit in any corner. I was embarrassed to check my backpack and even all the people around me on the top level was dressed up nicely. It was an agonizing wait for the lights to dim and the show to start. The Jazz Opera’s name was Dobře placená procházka. It was a classic beautiful story about love and money. It was funny. It was well played. And the audience provided a boisterous atmosphere. It turned out to be a big crew at the end of the encores, some of whom started rising from the seats and singing, dancing from the audience during the play. I fully enjoyed it. Although my seat at the top level was very far from the stage, it gave me an overlooking view of this splendid theatre. I felt like being in a royal palace of golden walls, sparkling chandeliers, and grand columns. If it were not the uncomfortable I was getting after the lights were back on, I would have stayed there for the longest I could. For the money I paid, I could not ask for more.
I sneaked out of the theatre with a happy smile. The first thing I did getting back to the hostel was to brag about my 4 euro experience at the National Theatre of Czech Republic in Prague to my roommates. The two girls were students from Redding, England. One of them studied business, the other archaeology. The archaeologist became curious when she learned that I was from Xi’an, where the Terra Cotta Warriors and Soldiers Museum located. She told me some of her excavating experience, vivid storytelling of brushing dirt off the ground to dig out treasures. She even excavated a piece which was displayed at a famous museum. The thing mostly amazed me about these two girls was their travel style. They were both young fellows younger than me. But they were super organized and knowledgeable. Their travel idea was obviously not going out drinking partying every night. They told me they were getting to bed early because they had been on the road for more than a month. They both kept their own travel diaries which were two thick book of photos, cards, tickets, and so on, inside more than 4 or 5 pages writings per day. They were not only sightseeing as they knew all the background stories of the places they had visited. They were kindly enough to recommend places where they had been to that I should visit, including Sainte-Chapelle in Paris and Amalfi Coast in Italy. I truly enjoyed the conversation with them. I also liked their backpacks where they stitched the patches on from all the places they visited. I could always learn a lot from my fellow travellers. Comparing to them, I was still a newbie on the road.
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