PRAGUE

Once upon a time in a little Philippine town called Las Pinas, Czechoslovakia, along with Mississippi, was just another word among the many usually asked during English spelling drills. Once upon a time too, although not so long ago, Czechoslovakia was one united country. But as history would have it, the Czechs and the Slovaks decided to divorce and live separate lives. Alas, I am now in Prague, once upon a time the heart of Europe and rightfully the current capital of half what used to be Czechoslovakia - the Czech Republic.

A visit to the Czech Republic was also only a Filipino speller´s dream. The visa hurdle was far too complicated for a green-colored Philippine passport holder; a $2,500 security deposit was required even for just an overnight stay. But now that most eastern European countries have also been added to the growing list of the Schengen states, the dream conveniently came to fruition.

Prague is a charming city, at once transporting you to a flourishing past that will undoubtedly enliven and enhance any art discussion in a college Humanities class. The city is dotted with multi-dimensional forms of art: architecture, engineering, painting, music. Building structures and designs from different eras of the glorious European past ranging from baroque, gothic, renaissance, rococo, roman bring delight to an artist´s eyes.

I will not pretend to be an artist. Like the other transient visitors to this historic place who are unmindful of the tour guides´ laborious explanation of the differences among art forms in far from trite expressions, my main determination centers on capturing that one moment in time validating my being here: a quick digital snapshot complete with the essential smile or a giggle, though there is hardly anything to smile or giggle about.

Churches bill the evening´s performances of assorted concertos featuring the music of either Mozart or Vivaldi or both, or even a quartet with Bach and Beethoven, never mind if the no-entrance-fee-for prayer time is reduced to a mere thirty minutes prior to the opening hours for the dollar or euro spending and paying tourists. Yes, the awful lot that fills every square inch of the Stare and Nove Mestos (Old and New Towns)understanding that like the rest, you also understand that all you tourist lot understand nothing. But this musing has nothing to do with extolling the virtues of Prague or the Czechs. This is about another dream being fulfilled. An idea becoming.

I stayed at the Arnosta on Vorsilska street, a few steps away from Ostrovni, where if the name on the door is to be believed, Vaclav Havel resides. He, who was the last president of Czechoslovakia and the first president of the Czech Republic. Manfred Abele,that wonderful specie of a bosom friend, together with his ultra thoughtful wife Monika and second son Johannes, made the dream possible.

On our first night, we sat for a nightcap in a terrace at the foot of the famous Charles Bridge by the Vltava, Prague´s principal waterway. I mentally recounted similar bodies of water I have had the similar opportunities to cross, wade in, travelled on, sat by: the Rhine, Thames, Seine, Nile, Yangtze, Ganges, Elbe.

And as I sip the last of my gin tonic, I looked up to the skies and thank the heavens for my very good fortune. A very good fortune, indeed.