Prague is full of beautiful little parks, impressive churches and handsome bridges. True, there are some eye-sores too. Everything that was built in the communist era is loathsome to behold. Of course, the Soviets were more into plundering or neglecting what was already there, so they didn’t leave all that much in the way of an architectural heritage - apart from their dreadful panelaks: those housing blocks that look even worse than what all those optimistic young architects built in England after the second world war.
They did almost leave a huge statue of Stalin on the useless side of the river. The man himself had ordered it built to impress. He didn’t trust the local population, so he wanted to put the fear of God (so to speak) into them. So, he (or his statue) would be able to keep a stony eye on these untrustworthy subjects. The local work force did not prove all that enthusiastic about the project and the statue didn’t exactly shoot up.
Still, like a sleepwalking snail, the stone Stalin slowly rose. Then, the old dictator finally died and not soon afterwards comrade Khrushchev told a thoroughly astounded world that Stalin had, maybe, not been such a kind papa bear after all but - oops, sorry, folks - a sadistic, mad mass murderer. So, to the amusement of all Prague’s citizens Stalin’s statue got demolished before its head had had the chance to be put on its shoulders.
There are enough other eye-sores left that could have done with the Khrushchev touch, of course. Every city has its architectural hiccups or liver spots. Close to where I lived was what a friend of mine used to call the Prague Penis: a huge, mostly metal structure that rose to the Heavens like a stranded spaceship,a giant junkie’s needle or, indeed, a steel prick.
It’s probably a radio tower: I admit I never could be bothered to find out properly. It’s damn ugly though. Some years ago some demented artists constructed a very odd number of statues: black tar babies with huge heads - or aliens, if you like. These things now seem to creep all over the hapless tower. This has not made the construct in any way more beautiful but it has given it an extra and nicely demented dimension.
Before this day I’d never quite realised how impressively big those black tar baby aliens really were. I kicked at a piece of black debris. The cat said:
“Hey, watch it!”
“Sorry.” I said.
“Yeah, right.” the cat said, unconvinced, and then started to wash itself.”
“Amazingly trustful and obedient, those alien disciples of yours.” I said.
“Oh, shut up.” said the cat.
“You tell them to build a bigger spaceship, so that I could join you lot, when they take you back to their planet and they say, Yessah - will do, sah!
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” said the cat and gave me an evil look.
I shook my head, looking around me again. It was a mess. One of those black babies had come tumbling from great height. It had been one big, fat baby and it had done some damage on its way. It now lay spread al over a handful of streets, in a few thousand small to biggish pieces. There were also about a hundred ruined cars, splintered trees, twisted TV antennas, shards from broken windows and roof tiles and more, indefinable debris. It was one big mess.
“Not very intelligent though, your followers.”
“No.” the cat admitted.
“So…” I continued “you told them to go home to build that bigger ship - to go straight home…”
“Yes.”
“And they did, for their God had told them…”
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Enough already.”
“So, they flew, straight as an arrow, for their faith was strong - and so they didn’t even swerve when they came upon the tower. I’m sure they told themselves it was some kind of test: that you had given them the chance to show they really had faith in their God. You really let them down, you know.”
“Oh, fuck off.” the cat said and walked away.
“And you know what that means, don’t you?” I called after it.
The cat didn’t bother to reply. It knew already. That didn’t stop me though to rub in these sad facts of life.
“So, when we will go back to Holland it will be you and me in a plane, buddy. Me in tourist class; and you in the hold - in the smallest cat carrier that I can find.”
The cat had disappeared down another street. I looked around me one more time.
“You poor, poor baby” I said - and no, I did not mean that bloody cat of mine - nor the aliens, of whom no trace was left, as far as I could see.
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