Dateline, July 8th, 2022, afternoon

File this under things that you will most likely never see in the United States of America.

After seeing such a thrilling synopsis of the Prague’s last century, I decided to take a look at some of that history in action. Specifically, I wanted to get a firsthand look at the Metronome, the avante-garde statue that Praguers erected on the very sport where a 51 foot-tall Josef Stalin once towered over the city.

Once I arrived, I was not disappointed with what I saw. More impressive than the rather large orange timepiece was the fact that everywhere within sight, local Prague people were having a very, very, good time. In fact, by American standards, it was jaw dropping.

I saw two woman sitting on a ledge uncork a bottle of wine and start sipping. Mind you, this ledge was atop a 90 foot precipice. I saw a dozen people drinking beer and sitting atop the actual ledge where the Stalin statue once stood. I saw skateboarders skating about without a care in the world.

Now, close your eyes and try imagining any of this happening in the so-called “most free country on earth.”

I soaked in the views from the cityscape. Not only does the Metronome offer breathtaking views of the Vltava River and the historic center of Prague, but there is also a beer garden (of course). So I decided to act local and enjoy another fine Prague Pivo whilst I sat atop the ledge and read passages from The Unbearable Lightness of Bearing. I read about the Soviet invasion during the Prague spring of 1968, and I pictured the Soviet airplanes that were flying overhead. I could easily imagine the disruption, the chaos, and the fear that resulted when weapons of war disrupted such a place of peace and passion.

With my curiosity over the Stalin monument and its subsequent removal sufficiently satiated, I walked down the winding walkway to Vltava River and crossed one of its many bridges into Nové Město. As I walked the winding streets, I stumbled upon a live music performance outside of one Prague’s many wine bars. A young man wearing Ray Bans and sporting a black look worthy of Johnny Cash sat outside the bar with an acoustic guitar in hand. He had an amplifier and speaker to provide just a little extra volume over the noise of the traffic. He was playing classic hits from the 1960s up to the present day. A small crowd of German tourists had gathered around him. The German tourists and I sang along to every song, and between songs, I asked the singer where he was from. He gave me a surprised look and responded:

“Right here in Prague.”

“Really? Your English is very good.”

“Why thank you,” he said with a smile, blushing a little bit behind his stylish sunglasses.

“Yes, really.” I added. “You speak better English than most Americans.”

With that, he chuckled and went into a stirring rendition of John Lennon’s “Stand by Me (yes, I know it was originally written and recorded by Ben E. King, but the singer sang this tune in the spirit of Lennon). As he did so, some of the German’s flashed peace signs and posted their selfie’s on social media.

The singer also had an egg-sized shaker if anyone in the audience wanted to play on percussion. It wasn’t long before I transitioned from the audience and onto the stage, helping out my newfound Czech comrade rhythm and backing vocals. We sang together until he’d reached his limit for the day, and the German tourists walked off into the evening, thanking both of us for our musical performance. I shook hands with many of them and walked away, feeling a sense of spiritual enlightenment I hadn’t felt in quite some time.

And yet that wasn’t even the end of my singing for the evening. I was hungry after a long day of walking up and down all over the peaks and plummets of Prague, so I decided to replenish myself at the nearest Irish pub. Fortunately, the James Joyce was only half a block away from the wine bar. No sooner than I sat down and ordered myself an Irish cider did I find myself singing along to classic Simpson’s compositions with some of the regulars. Just a few excerpts:

“See my vest, see my vest, made from real gorilla chest.”

“Like my loafers, former gophers, it was that or skin my chauffeurs, but a greyhound fur tuxedo would be best!”

“Monorail, monorail, monorail!”

And so it continued. I chatted with some Irish patrons about the best Simpsons writer of all time (Conan O’Brien, of course), about the idiosyncrasies of the English language, and simply allowed myself to relax in a restaurant without worrying about whether or not my Czech was passable.

One week into this great experiment, and things are progressing along nicely. Dear reader, you may ask yourself, do things get better for the author as time progresses?

Spoiler alert: Yes!