Touring Josefov

Not that I have any intention of doing any shopping on this trip, but I was mildly curious about whether stores would be open yesterday, it being Sunday and all.

(This was because I was so utterly gobsmacked during my time in the UK, which only grudgingly had supermarkets open on Sundays. And I recall a time in the Old Dominion when by law only grocery stores and tourist-focused stores—think souvenirs and gift shops—could be open on Sundays. The lege changed that law while I was in grad school, and people like to lost their minds whining that if stores opened on the Sabbath, they’d have to work overtime! It did not occur to them that the boss would just hire more people, maybe even cut back their hours to save on paying benefits.)

Anyhow—I needn’t have concerned myself in the least. Not only did they open yesterday, but they appeared to open at the same time as on other days. None of this two-three hours later than weekday stuff like in the Confederacy.

Because as I turned the corner on my way to the Jewish quarter, I came across this crowd waiting for Hamleys toy store to open. (Hamleys is London’s answer to FAO Schwartz.)

 

But when 1000 rolled around and the doors opened, no one swarmed in. Because there was a ritual of store employees in the doorways chanting something and engaging the crowd in a call-and-response thing.

Cool.

Well, I carried on over to Josefov, the Jewish district (named after Josef II, the Holy Roman Emperor who emancipated Jews within his empire). Much of my day was spent walking to and through the several synagogues that make up the Jewish museum experience. I don’t think right now I’ll go into the pall that hangs over Jewish history in Eastern Europe. I’m still processing it. Anti-Semitism has always been a feature of life in these parts—as, indeed, it is right home in the US.

As recent events in Pittsburgh and elsewhere have so acutely reminded us.

Anyhow—I have Thoughts on this topic, but I’ll hold off on sharing them.

Instead I’ll concentrate on some of the design elements, which I always find interesting. The first lot is from the Spanish Synagogue (so called because it was built in a Spanish architectural style).

(I just really like repeating patterns.)

As you often see in churches, the windows were dedicated to patrons and/or their families:

The Pinkas Synagogue led to the Old Jewish Cemetery, which received the dead for about three centuries. It ceased operations in 1787, when our pal Josef II banned burials inside city walls for reasons of hygiene. Until then, graves were often layered, with older headstones being raised alongside the newer ones. Ergo the veritable forest of stones:

To me, the tumbled-down appearance sometimes looked as though the stones were comforting one another:

I overheard one of the ubiquitous tour guides telling her charges that the elaborate markers denote the rich or important (meaning: scholars), and that the very large stone flanked by these lions was someone very rich indeed:

The Jewish Community, which manages the elements of the Jewish Museum experience encourage men to wear a kippeh while in the synagogues. I give this guy credit for trying, but it's more rakish than your Orthodox or Conservative congregations would like. Maybe okay for Reform, though.

Once I finished with the Josefov, I ticked another Prague box: I rode on the trams. I truly love public transportation; as a native of Los Angeles, I find any efficient form of transit a wonder, and Prague’s trams are extra primo good. Clean, with clearly audible automated stop announcements and electronic signage telling you what stops are coming up. They’re everything Metro wishes it could be.

At some point, I’ll have to take Prague’s Metro system, but I opted for surface transportation just because.