Strahov II

Admittedly, my return to Strahov was triggered by the knowledge that James Bond would be filmed at the location starting February 10th.

Strahov has an interesting history. Now widely regarded as one of the most impressive libraries in Europe, it was founded in the 11th century. Its prized possession is a 9th century New Testament.

In 1783, Abbot Meyer learned of Emporer Joseph II’s plans to close many Habsburg monasteries. The sly abbot had a gold medallion of the emperor created for the entrance, and subsequently convinced the emperor not only to spare the monastery, but also to move books from the closing monasteries to this one by the wagonload.

It seems to me that the craftiness of Strahov’s monks did not end with Abbot Meyer. Upon returning to the monastery after the Velvet Revolution in 1989, the monks converted the subterranean cellars into a restaurant affectionately named Peklo (Hell). I could tell that the monks had caught on to capitalism. Photographic licenses were an additional 50Kč ($2.00).

I envisioned a trendy 8x10 photo of an 18th century globe adorning my study one day. I decided to wait and see the library’s photographic opportunities before paying the additional 50Kč.

The thin hall was lined with ashen colored volumes of religious texts. The rows of bookshelves were broken by various 19th century specimen collections. The electrical engineering and historical parts of my brain met each other for the first time when I saw a static electricity generator from the late 18th century. It looked a great deal more complicated than Van de Graff’s solution.

I arrived at barred doorways to two magnificent rooms. No doubt this was where they would be filming Bond later this week. I saw a few others leaving the splendid library room. My hand reached for the bar and I gave the small Czech woman an expectant look. “Special group,” she said with a heavy accent. I grumbled and refused to console myself with the fact that the tour was for a blind girl and that my admission had been a mere $2.

Eventually I let it go and stood in the doorway, leaning my shoulder against the wall and soaking in each of the marvelous library rooms for a solid ten minutes.

One room was much larger than the other, and had a magnificent fresco spread across its ceiling. The two-story walls were ornately carved from fine wood. It seemed that electric lighting had been added as an afterthought, which, I realized, it had been.

The shorter room impressed me even more. Its vaulted ceiling was ornately carved. I thought of Zdeněk when I noted the swirled Baroque touch. This room was decorated with various antique globes, which happen to be my favorite decoration.

Unwilling to pay the additional fee for photography, I am forced to share pictures from the internet instead of my own:

COURTESY GOOGLE IMAGE SEARCH

After my excursion, I retreated with some friends to Maly Buddha (Little Buddha), a nearby restaurant that nonetheless exists thousands of miles from Prague and the rest of the Czech Republic.

We enjoyed a candle-lit, smoke-free, beer-free dinner together as our respective chi’s regained their balances. Most Czech restaurants play American pop music, but here a Buddha Bar mix was playing: a modern spin on ancient melodies that suited the restaurant to a tee.

Two and a half hours later we returned to the dark, ice-covered continent and made our way back to the dorm.