travel – Allison Thurman

unexpected Roman ruins: Viminacium

If you love Roman history you should go to… Serbia.

I know, right?

But it’s not that surprising when you realize that if Romania was named after Rome, the Romans had to go through what is now Serbia to get there (and get to everywhere else they colonized in Northern Europe). As it turns out, some 15 Roman emperors were born in what is now Serbia, and there’s ample archaeological evidence of Roman occupation.

My entire travel party was excited to see the ruin of Viminacium, a provincial outpost of the Roman Empire ca. the 1st-4th centuries C.E. I think we were all impressed. What follows is a thumbnail of what I learned on my visit, along with some of my pictures. I recommend the Itinerarium Romanum Serbiae site if you want to get into the weeds.

Viminacium was near the present-day town of Kostolac, Serbia. The archaeological site (and it is an ongoing excavation) is fairly isolated on a grassy plain. The only other nearby structure is a modern electrical plant, and it’s a bit odd to pass industrial towers belching steam to arrive in a field with only a cluster of low buildings and tents.

But oh, what you see in the tents!

mausoleum archaeological site under a tent, with above and below-ground tombs

This is the grave site and you can go right in (guided, of course). This is the largest number of graves found at a Roman site (nearly 15,000). The presence of Christian and Pagan burials side by side is noteworthy but not unheard of, and suggests that Christians and Pagans lived together in relative harmony.

skeleton with arms crossed over the chest — Christians buried with arms crossed over the chest…

skeletons with arms at its sides — …pagans with arms at sides.

I faced down another phobia (dark, small spaces) to visit to the underground mausoleums (photography not permitted). The well-preserved frescoes are worth stumbling through the dark in a crouch; I can’t imagine many Roman sites would let you get that close.

They’ve also excavated some of the baths (because the Romans everywhere loved their baths) but due to the stage of excavation this is as close as I could get:

round brick cisterns

The amphitheater is partially excavated and partially reconstructed. Not sure what I think about building modern reproductions nearly on top of the ruins, but they do illustrate how things might have looked when Viminacium was a bustling town of 40,000.

wooden amphitheater seats with stone ruins in foreground — The stone in the foreground is original.

Then on to the villa.

inner atrium of apparent Roman villa, open to the sky — Not original to the site, obviously…

Well, not quite. The Domus Scientiarum Viminacium has the floor plan of a Roman villa but is a research and conference center. The upper levels contain scientific libraries, laboratories, and accommodations for visiting scientists; the lower level is a combination of museum (open to the public) and climate-controlled storage (not so much, though I did get a glimpse). I wouldn’t mind having my corporate retreat here.

Thus far archaeologists have only excavated around 4% of Viminacium. Though described as a “colony”, the speculative city plan reveals something far more extensive, cosmopolitan, and permanent than that word suggests:

scale model of extensive network of streets with houses, an amphitheater, baths, coliseum, and other public buildings — If you have the facilities to host the Roman equivalents of the Superbowl, “Hamilton”, and Beyonce you’re a *city*, dammit.

gold tile "P" on dark blue tile background — Early Christian symbol floor in the villa mosaic that the guides asked us not to step on.

trapezoid panel with stylized woman painted on front propped against a wall, two warped oblong boxes in foreground — So much going on at the site that they haven’t been able to catalog everything yet. This wooden panel and lead coffins from were in a downstairs hallway.

The aim of the larger Itinerarium Romanum Serbiae project is to connect a network of other Serbian Roman ruins, reproduction Roman villas, and motels along the route of the old Roman roads. Part tourism, part scientific study, it would provide a lot of local jobs (a concern because Serbia isn’t part of the European Union [yet?] and much of the traditional farming is dying out).

And finally, the mammoths.

large pile of fossils not quite dug out of the ground yet, in a wooden chamber

A bit of a non sequitur amongst all of the Roman artifacts, but these were found at the same site (in a much earlier strata, obviously) and are on display in a wooden chamber. If I remember rightly, only some of the fossils were found on site; others were brought in for comparison.

After walking around all day and putting so many things in our heads, we all slept well. Which is good as the next day we were in Belgrade, and in addition to the guided tour made an extracurricular visit to the Tesla Museum.

vertigo, in a good way: Belogradchik

The ship entered the port of Vidin, Bulgaria around 7 am. I was up early most days of the trip out of necessity but also because I never quite shook Eastern Standard time. But it was worth to see a week of mornings just like this (we lucked into almost perfect weather for the entire trip).

sunrise over the rippling water of river, hills on the far shore, with the railing of the ship in the near distance — Photo author’s own, as are all others except where noted.

We arrived ahead of schedule so we got to wander around Vidin a bit before the day’s field trip.

statue of 3 women in draped dresses, facing outwards — Statue in Vidin city center of the three unhappily married sisters who founded Vidin (or at least founded Baba Vida fortress around which the city was built).

wooded park with open umbrellas hanging from the treetops — Umbrellas in the park in Vidin.

Then we hopped on the coach for a trip to the mountains.

Belogradchik Fortress was originally built by the Romans and passed through Ottoman and Bulgarian hands through the centuries. Given the elevation it was originally built for surveillance rather than defense, though the walls are 2 meters thick in places.

tall rock formations with brick gate built between them, brick wall in foreground — Belogradchik Fortress was built within and using the natural rock formations.

two old, grown-over holes in the ground with a metal protective gate atop them — Roman cisterns, covered for safety. The Romans covered them with vinegar-soaked sheepskins to keep the water fresh.

We had the option to stay at the bottom or hike to the top. I chose the hike, and am grateful I invested in my hiking sneakers: ugly as sin prevented me grinding my knees to sawdust.

tall staircase built into the rock, going upwards — It was a bit of a hike…

sight of mountains between two rocky outcroppings, one perilously top heavy — …but the view was worth it.

I hate heights—or at least being near the edge of potentially long drops. Guard rails don’t help as I don’t trust them to hold. Nonetheless, I took a breath and stepped up to the edge.

another curious rock outcropping with misty mountains in background, safety railing visible in foreground — See the railing? I sweat bullets to get this shot.

looking down into wooded valley filled with red tile-roofed, whitewashed houses, and a single rock formation — The city of Belogradchik from with the characteristic red-tiled roofs and whitewashed walls.

The town of Belogradchik (Belograd=”white town”; “-chik” suffix=”small”, to differentiate it from the big white town of Belgrade—a later stop on the cruise) is built within the many Belogradchik Rocks. Most are named but 1) my notes aren’t clear on the specific names, probably because 2) I never could see the Bear, or Adam and Eve, or other figures described.

This site was a bit of a workout, in a good way: I challenged my fear of heights and got some good hiking in as well. Belogradchik was both beautiful but also a warmup for the next day’s excursion to a Roman archaeological site in Serbia.

history lesson: Veliko Tarnovo and Arbanassi

Our next stop was just that, a stop. Rousse, Bulgaria, is across the Danube from where we boarded the ship in Giurgiu, Romania. Think of Detroit’s physical relation to Windsor, Ontario. Our first view of Rousse was a bit confusing:

sunrise over dock with strangely misshapen white towers that look like salt but are probably sand — My traveling companions and I couldn’t figure out what the hell these were. A bit of digging reveals they may have been leftovers from an annual summer sand sculpture contest. All photos author’s own.

The excursion to Veliko Tarnovo started early (at least on this cruise line/itinerary). Most of the excursions did and justly so to accommodate the coach rides to and from plus a good chunk of sightseeing time. Double espressos were my friends throughout the trip. But said excursions are worth the early waking times. Every single one of these was interesting in some way, if only because I knew next to nothing about the histories of the places I’d be visiting. Happily the local guides are knowledgable and the coach rides provided ample time for crash courses.

Veliko Tarnovo was the capital of the 12th-14th century second Bulgarian empire. I didn’t know there was a first, so my notes say “read up on this”. The visit itself was a whirlwind of impressive hills and fortresses.

cobblestone path winds up hill, leading to large stone fortress — Everyone goes on about “the view from the top”—Tsarevets Fortress is pretty impressive from below.

four figures on horseback around central pole — The 1985 Monument of Assens celebrates the Tsars that created the second Bulgarian empire, and is visible from almost anywhere in the city. The characteristic architectural style is visible in the background: white stucco with red-tiled roofs.

By this time I’d developed a fascination with the buildings left over from communist days, if only because their aggressive simplicity stood out amongst the more traditional styles. Though, they also contained the occasional surprise: we stopped off at this ultra utilitarian hotel for coffee and banitsa to find the interior all red velvet and chandeliers.

stark gray concrete high rise with lacy curtains and the lights of a chandelier peeking out of the windows — See the lacy curtains and chandelier lights in the windows?

Then on to Arbanassi to get some early modern on. Some of the architecture here dates to the time of Ottoman rule (something else I want to read more about).

stone exterior wall with wooden shuttered window; stone looks compressed and settled over years of use — One of many among narrow cobblestone streets.

This cruise line was able to arrange a special performance of orthodox a capella chants at the Church of the Nativity.

old stone church with a red and yellow fresco of haloed figures — No interior photography permitted but I did get this photo of the exterior. The flag belongs to our tour guide.

Hearing the old chants echo off the frescoed walls created one of those “you are there” time-travel type moments that remind you that these buildings aren’t just relics but real buildings where real people lived and worked and worshipped for centuries (and in some cases are still in use).

The finish of the day was a taste of rakia distilled from roses. It tasted the way roses smell (I can’t think of any other way to describe it). Rose oil is a prominent export of central Bulgaria, but I didn’t know you could distill it. This was my first of many encounters with the culture and products Balkan brewing during the trip.

The drive back to the boat was a blur: by then jet lag and general exhaustion was setting in. I got an early night and good thing too as the next day we had a day trip to some very tall, windy rocks.

old, new, fancy, and plain: Bucharest

Bucharest is not on the Danube, but it’s where everyone flies in for this particular cruise. Given that the cruise company manages your experience from day one they did provide a 4 hour coach bus tour of the city with an excellent local guide. What follows are my jet-lagged memories bolstered by notes I scribbled that night and furious Googling. All photos my own except where noted:

Bucharest is often called “Little Paris” due to the influential French architecture built during the 19th and 20th centuries. The level of restoration is mixed: restored/maintained buildings are often right next to dilapidated husks. While stateside this disrepair might suggest incomplete gentrification (or decline) in Bucharest it’s a just part of the landscape, not isolated to any one part of the city as far as I could tell.

older building with scarred brickwork, blown out windows, rusted gate on balcony — Not an unusual sight. Old Town, Bucharest

It’s also normal to find these ornate banks and hotels across the street from stark communist-era cement apartment blocks or modern glass skyscrapers. The juxtaposition is odd to bleary American eyes but I imagine quite normal in any city as old as Bucharest.

ornate baroque building with arched doorway and round towers in front of modern glass skyscraper — Also not an unusual sight: the CEC Palace (CEC Bank) with glass skyscraper in background

Some of the most modern-looking architecture is at Revolution Square, renamed after the 1989 revolution.

photo of blackened stone sculpture of a man on horseback — Not the most modern art-looking piece in Revolution Square, but this statue of the first Romanian King, Carol I, is a powerful Romanian symbol. It’s a 2015 re-creation of a statue torn down by the Communists in 1947.

Sad to say I don’t know as much as I’d like about the history of the fall of communism. I’m old enough to remember coverage on television but didn’t have the context to grasp the broader picture. From what I could learn from our guide, the Romanian revolution was the bloodiest of all the revolutions of 1989, and almost 30 years afterwards the Ceaușescu regime appears to be viewed with a mix of disdain, embarrassment, and dark humor.

Indeed, Ceaușescu is hard to escape if only because the Palace of Parliament he started before his execution (but did not complete) casts such a (literally) huge shadow. Built with forced labor and displacing almost 50,000 Bucharest residents, it has over a thousand(!) rooms, all in a bombastic “totalitarian kitsch” style with towers of marble, velvet rugs and curtains, and gilded everything else. It’s oversized, overdone, and overwhelming, but despite this and its association with Ceaușescu I get why it’s still in use. It’s got every conference and performance amenity a city twice Bucharest’s size could ever need.

long, high arched gallery lit by multiple chandeliers, with large marble pillars and gilt molding on the ceiling — Authoritarian glam all the way back: one of the long (*long*) galleries in the Palace of the Parliament.

And speaking of long shadows, you can’t talk about Bucharest without mentioning Vlad the Impaler.

Of all the places associated with the inspiration for Dracula, the Old Princely Court is the only site with a documented association as Vlad III built the current structure in the 15th century. The local tourist shops capitalize on the English-speaking world’s fascination with Vlad: you can get Dracula/Bela Lugosi/Vlad the Impaler dressed as Bela Lugosi on just about anything. Which are the only Draculas you’ll see as the Old Court itself is currently closed for renovation and fenced off.

old brick open court with wooden supports and ladders lying about, a white stone pillar in the center upon which is the black stone bust of a man with long hair and ferocious mustache — I managed to get this photo of Vlad’s bust through a small gap in the fencing. How fitting to be posting it on Halloween!

I liked Bucharest, what little I saw of it. I’d like to see more, especially of the historical Old Town. The gaps in my historical knowledge about communism and its aftermath are shameful, so I plan to read up. Any book recommendations are welcome!

After Bucharest the coach departed for the dock in Giurgiu where the boat waited for us on the Romanian side of the Danube. Right across the river is the Bulgarian city of Rousse (Ruse), our next port of call.

I was on a boat!

And I never thought I would be, let alone that I’d enjoy it so.

Man in tux standing on prow of ship: I'm on a boat — Not me, not my boat, but you get the idea.

Some background: my mother and sister have been on several river cruises. Mom discovered a few years back that they’re an excellent way to see a lot of sights while only having to unpack once, all the while letting someone else organize the sightseeing.

Full disclosure: I appreciated my Mom’s love of cruising but was leery of it for myself. Given that the cruise line books all outside excursions and you stay on the boat, not on the physical lands you’re visiting, it always sounded a bit like a “canned” experience to me, sanitized and Americanized. Which isn’t bad but isn’t usually my thing: I prize “authenticity”* and being on the ground, moving among the locals with all the attendant currency, travel, food, and language challenges this implies.

But my Mom wanted to take a cruise with me, my sister, and our best friend for her 80th birthday, so her party, her rules. Besides, even a tightly controlled glimpse of Europe is better than no Europe, especially as I’d never visited any of the countries (Romania, Bulgaria, Serbia, Croatia, Hungary) on the itinerary. And given my recent burnout, letting someone else deal with the logistics (my sister with flight/cabin booking, the cruise line with everything else) had a ton of appeal.

Well, I was wrong about cruises.

You see a LOT. Yes, it’s a quick touchdown everywhere, but it’s more than enough to give you an idea of a region or city and if you want to see more, well, that’s an excuse for future travel. All passes and tickets are inclusive, so no waiting in line or figuring out when/if stuff is open/available. Turns out on a cruise you don’t actually spend a lot of time on the boat if you do all the activities offered.

And you see everything from a local perspective. All of our guides were from the country (and often the city) they guided us through and while knowledgable provided personal context beyond names, dates, and photo opportunities.

Mind, if you don’t want to go and do, shipboard life has its own charms. There was a small pool: not big enough for laps but warm as a bathtub which was exactly what my office-stiff and fencing-overworked self needed. The ship also kept a masseuse and hairdresser on board for those who crave a relaxing spa experience. Lounge areas offered books, newspapers, and the opportunity to just watch the world go by.

And then there’s the food.

All the clichés about abundant cruise food are true, but the food was also good and often included local specialties. One glass of wine per dinner, but the glass was constantly refilled by staff that were attentive to the point of near psychic anticipation. Breakfast and lunch were more casual, buffet deals but had just about anything one could want (smoked salmon and mackerel for breakfast! Hold your nose all you like but I love me some seafood and these paired wonderfully with scrambled eggs!)

Saying the views from the deck were “sweet” is a gross understatement.

silhouette of trees beneath an orange sky, sunrise reflected on the river

view of the Danube in daytime - top deck of the boat in the foreground, river and shore to the left

Short version: the river cruise was a wonderful way to visit a lot of places in a short time with maximum physical convenience. I could focus on visiting with family and friends and resting, while sharing beautiful sights and interesting stories. Would I do a cruise again? Sure, if the company is good and there’s plenty to see.

Over the next few weeks my weekly posts will be about the trip, with plenty of pictures and historical context (because I took notes. And yes, for me taking notes IS vacation!)

*”Authenticity” or the lack thereof in the context of travel kicks off a whole separate discussion, which I’m willing to have if there’s sufficient interest. Having said this, everyone has their own travel preferences and standards for “real” so I won’t yuck on your yum if you won’t yuck on mine.

biweekly links 5-2-2018

I’ve been on a bit of a Southern history jag since coming back from a trip to my home state of Georgia. Turns out I know very little about where I grew up. Some of my stranger findings:

old fashioned map of the northwest three-fourths of the state of Georgia — Lionel Pincus and Princess Firyal Map Division, The New York Public Library. (1859). *Map of the State of Georgia* Retrieved from.

Mary Shotwell Little Vanishes at Lenox Square-Well, We Think!: how had I never heard about this 1965 unsolved disappearance? A woman disappears from the biggest shopping mall in Atlanta. Her car is found with 40 unaccounted for miles on it… but the last sightings of her were six hours away in Charlottesville NC. Was she kidnapped or did she fake her own death–and in either case, why? See (or listen) also here and here.

Disappearance of Dannette and Jeannette Millbrook: I’d not heard of this one and no surprise – back in 1991 the authorities wrote off the Augusta, GA teenagers as runaways on no evidence whatsoever. Though re-opened in 2013 the Millbrook sisters’ case still didn’t get much attention until The Fall Line podcast focused on it for an entire season. A sad, frustrating cold case hopefully soon to come to a resolution.

The Georgia Guidestones: not hours away from my hometown yet I’ve never been (never been to Rock City or Ruby Falls either – yes, I am a slacker). A still anonymous “Small Group of Americans Who Seek The Age Of Reason” commissioned these in 1979 and they’ve inspired speculation and conspiracy theory ever since. Project Archivist covered these in one of their early episodes; their guest Raymond Wiley co-hosted Out There Radio back in 2005 based out of the University of Georgia radio station WUOG (where back in the early 1990s I hosted the dance music show during my student days).

And finally a whole blog of Georgia Mysteries for my future rabbit hole needs.

horny devils: the vejigante of Puerto Rico

I am fresh from a week’s vacation in Puerto Rico! Save some fencing, I did very little save read, rest, and walk around Ponce’s historic downtown. The weather was gloriously warm, the food excellent, the company better, and the rest much-needed.

Needless to say I ran into neither USOs, nor the chupacabras of cryptozoological lore (though there were iguanas, many iguanas) because weird stuff doesn’t happen to me. But I did get a taste of Puerto Rican folklore at the Pan Am Championships’ opening ceremony:

three dancers in brightly colored robes and horned masks in sports stadium — Vejigantes on the piste. Author’s own.

These colorful critters are vejigantes (bay-he-GAHN-tay), a sort of all-purpose demon (or family of demons) that evolved out of the meeting of Spanish, African, and native Taíno cultures.

A quick whip around the web reveals the name comes from “vejiga” (Spanish for cow bladder) and “gigante” (giant) in reference to the dried, seed-filled cow bladders they use as “weapons” at festivals like the annual Carnaval Ponceño.

Most striking are the masks (careta) made of papier-mâché and/or coconut husks. Colors and patterns vary by geography (those above are from Ponce) but bright colors, teeth, and horns seem to be constants. This long-standing folk art is specific to Puerto Rico, and though how-tos (PDF) abound I suspect they don’t stick to traditional methods.

Examples of varying quality were on sale everywhere, in every size from fridge-magnet-small to half my height! I could only get this ~4″ sample home, it’s spiky horns protected inside the hard shell of my fencing mask:

Small black, green, yellow, and red mask with pointed open mouth and five horns — My Ponce souvenir

The man who sold this to me said it represents the wife of the “main” vejigante. I haven’t found any list of characters or their relationships so far and it frustrates me that I’m ignorant of the stories behind the imagery. The temptation to research is great but unavailability of info may be for the best – I have no business doing new research when The Novel is still in progress.

diversions

Last weekend I took a break from the book to attend my first costume conference in several years. The scholarship has proceeded by leaps and bounds since I last made anything substantial, but the real treat was seeing old friends and making new ones.

Photo of ship Susan Constant at sunset — Reproduction of the Susan Constant, one of the ships that brought settlers to Jamestown. Author’s own.

Even so, I couldn’t avoid the book entirely.

The conference was in Jamestown Settlement/Historic Jamestown, a recreation of the first permanent English settlement in North America and the archaeological site of the original fort, respectively. Neither Dee or Kelley ever came to the New World, but some of Dee’s acquaintances did.

Settler George Percy presided over the winter of 1609-10 Starving Time. The name rang a bell, and a Google search revealed that he was the youngest brother of Henry Percy, 9th earl of Northumberland, called the Wizard Earl for his interest in early science. Percy’s Syon House was near Dee’s in Mortlake, and they ran in similar intellectual circles: the Wizard Earl led the so called School of Night, a group of men interested in clandestine religion and science.

The Jamestown archaeological museum included a selection of early tobacco pipes. Names of prominent courtiers and nobles decorated many of them, among them Charles Howard, first earl of Nottingham. Howard was Lord Admiral of the English fleet ca. 1585 to 1619. In a rather oblique connection, Jane Dee (nee Fromonds) served as lady in waiting to his wife Catherine before her marriage to John Dee.

Though he wasn’t involved in the Jamestown voyage, Dee acted as navigating consultant to earlier English voyages of discovery. His 1577 publication of General and Rare Memorials pertayning to the Perfect Arte of Navigation was the first to put forth the notion of a “British empire” and advocated English colonization of the New World.

These connections aren’t that surprising. The rich, powerful, and educated of sixteenth century England comprised a small group so most were acquainted with and/or related to each other. I just found it amusing that even when I take a break my interests reel me right back into the book.

And I discovered a costume element I can use to make Kelley (more) miserable, so that amuses.

I came out of the conference wanting to make everything, and while I find myself with some surprise free hours this summer, I’m going to stick to short, simple projects. Much as I’d love to drown in linen and lace the book still comes first.

Trebon and back again – an ugly American’s tale

I made one trip out of Prague for the book. It went…ok. If nothing else I learned what not to do next time.

When Emperor Rudolf kicked Dee and Kelley out of Prague his second in command William of Rozmberk gave them refuge in the southern town of Trebon. Most of Kelley’s alchemical successes and the infamous wife-swapping took place while they lived in Trebon Castle and a lot of the 16^th century building remains. Of course I had to see it. I’d heard great things about the Czech Republic’s train system and it was only a 2 hour ride – what could go wrong?

Heh heh heh…

First off I severely overestimated my understanding of the train schedule. Prague to Trebon looks easy until I discovered I had to change trains: I had to know both my destination and my terminus, and ideally be able to pronounce both.

Which was my second mistake: I can’t speak Czech. It’s my own damn fault; save a few important words (Praha = Prague, knihy = book) I relied on everyone to speak English (ugly American, me).

My third bad assumption tied into the second: I was under the impression Trebon was a sizeable town and, therefore, full of English speakers. We got off the train to discover it was a one-taxi town – and the taxi driver spoke German.

The upshot was that we missed our first train and while we caught our second we were rushed and highly dependent on our phones’ ham-fisted Google translations.

So, yeah, not my finest travel moment.

I went on the only tour available in our short time-frame – Czech, with English handout. Though they didn’t permit interior photography (the Czech site has a nice photogallery) I got a handle on the smaller scale of a country palace. To my surprise the tour mentioned Dee and Kelley – there’s even a room set up as a makeshift alchemical lab.

Evidently there’s also a medieval-themed tavern named for Kelley on-site, but we didn’t have time to stop in. A mile sprint got us back to the station just in time to catch our ride back to Prague.

In lieu of Trebon Castle pix, have this one of the Rozmberk Palace in the Prague Castle complex. The Rozmberks scaled this one for grand city living.

Interior courtyard of Rozmberk Palace, Prague — The interior courtyard of Rozmberk Palace in Prague. It’s been a noble’s palace, school for unmarried noblewomen, and is currently the home of the Ministry of Internal Affairs.

weird Prague – the ghost and witch tours

Most walking tours hit the highlights: places, dates, battles. All of which is good and interesting, but I wanted a flavor of the local folklore that doesn’t make it into history books. I find ghost tours are the best way to learn about the weird history of a place, and I found two I enjoyed.

I discovered the Prague witch tour last minute and accidentally, and booked with the thought this will be either the cheesiest thing on earth or a window into contemporary pagan Prague. Definitely more beef than cheese, with servings of morbid history and a dash of ritual.

Our tour guide, Martina, was a modern pagan and a dedicated entrepreneur to boot. The witch tour is her labor of love, and she offered alternative perspectives on some of the usual sights. For example, she explained how Christian elements on the astronomical clock’s face can be interpreted as old pagan symbols to those in the know. While I don’t fully grasp the nuances of the occult “green language” (every word has seven meanings) it certainly lends another layer of history I wouldn’t have been aware of otherwise.

She also introduced us to the legend of 17th century executioner Jan Mydlář. Short version: the role of executioner traditionally stayed within families, but Mydlář committed a murder so grisly that they spared him the axe and gave him the job. He went on to an, er, prolific career and a friendship with the anatomist Ján Jesenský, to whom he supplied cadavers for dissection. Their friendship came to an end when Mydlář’s superiors ordered him to behead Jesenský along with 26 other Protestant leaders, thus kicking off the Thirty Years War. The execution site is still marked in the Old Town Square:

crosses of the martyrs in Old Town Square — One cross for each man. Very sobering.

Mydlář went on to drink away the loss of his best friend at a pub that still exists today. It’s somewhere behind the Old Town Hall, though for the life of me I couldn’t find it a second time:

front of the executioner's pub — The sign over the door. If you squint you can see some of the swords and other weapons hanging on the wall

The rest of the tour was a long walk through landmarks familiar and not: the surviving gothic architecture of Charles University and the “devil’s” fungus that tears the stone apart; the convent of St. Agnes, haunted by girls pressed into the nunnery against their will; the executioner’s storage and training house. Always the symbols passed through a pagan lens, revealing an enduring alternate belief system.

She even conducted a brief ritual of intent for us in a chalk-drawn circle, and I did my best to focus on my goals. The evening wound up in a local pub with excellent local spirits and a wide-ranging discussion about pagan thought. This tour is truly unlike anything else in Prague, and Martina is a delight. Highly recommended.

The underground ghost tour took us under the city hall into chambers that were at ground level hundreds of years ago but were slowly buried by later construction. Only hand-held lanterns relieve the complete dark, creating a still, close atmosphere that’s great for storytelling. Mydlář came up again as a man who tried to save his lover from the axe only to have things go disastrously wrong. Allegedly he also worked with a vampire hunter (how is there not a graphic novel somewhere about Mydlář & co? The black humor writes itself!). Our tour guide was a New Jersey native and the unfamiliar words sounded even more so in his familiar accent, but he knew his stuff and claimed to have had some experiences of his own.

Both tours claim that tourists have gone home to find wisps and ghostly “orbs” in their photos. Alas, the ghosties didn’t come out for me. Though, I did have a devil of a time uploading these images, so make of that what you will.