History nerd looks out a window in Prague

The Thirty Years War and the window that started it all

Before Prague became a capital of bachelor parties and misbehaving backpackers, it was the capital of Bohemia. And no, not the broke, artsy fartsy hippy bohemians, but the Czech sort of Bohemians.

The Bohemians built pretty buildings, of one which is the royal palace. In this royal palace is a window, made popular by the Defenestration of Prague. The only thing that tells you this is a little plaque by the window.

My sister, who was also on the trip, thought it was cool but pointed out I was nerding out a bit too much when I saw it.

It might sound like a tawdry dance move performed in a Czech gentlemen’s club, but the Defenestration of Prague was a big deal in 1618.

A few Protestants – enraged over limitations of their religious rights – came into the palace and threw a few Catholic regents out of a fairly high window. This allowed Catholic hardliners to gather armies to retake Protestant lands in Bohemia, which whipped up the rest of the Protestants to rise against their Catholic rulers, which led to the Thirty Years War.

The regents thrown out the window survived the fall. The ever opportunistic Catholic Church declared their survival a miracle; proof that God is on their side in the war. The Protestants, with no miracle to claim for their cause, retorted that they survived the fall by landing onto a pile of manure.

This is not a pilgrimage destination, no one journeys to Prague to look at this window thoughtfully and reflect on Johnny Calvin or Marty Luther – or maybe they do, there's a lot people nerdier than out there. Right?

And yes, it’s just a freakin’window, but it played a role in a historical event.

Traveling through Europe, you get used to seeing pretty churches and castles and what not, but it’s nice to see a little bits of tangible history along the way. Even if it is just a window with a plaque beside it.

What have I been up to? Not blogging

For extended periods of time I tend to forget I have a blog. Usually it’s slow periods at work that prompt this forgetfulness. For some reason, a good brief, the rush of client presentations, and some tight deadlines always gets me writing about the non-advertising things in my life.

All of this is to say that I have not been idle. Summer in Hungary is pretty awesome and I have been up to a fair bit.

There’s a parkour playground in a nearby park. I’m nowhere good enough to be a Youtube star, but it’s fun to see how un-agile I actually am.

My sister, Rebecca, came for a visit/Euro Trip that included a lot of organizing. There will be a post or two about that soon.

Someone's been looking at hostel sites for too long.

Kata visited Budapest, then we had burgers at W35.

I also discovered a butcher in a market near work, who carries some nice Mangalica sausage, or Hairy Pig Sausage as my family called the stuff I brought some to Canada on my last trip home. Hairy Pig doesn't just come in sausage form. A buddy from the office, Tamas, gave me some homemade smoked bacon from the countryside, which has brought my Lecsó up a notch.

Mmmmmmm.... Hairy Pig Sausage....

Oh, yes, I’ve been cooking more too, especially the aforementioned lecsó, pork stew, among other things. 

Friends in faraway places

The customs guy looked at my passport and back at me. “You’re from Canada, on your way home from Stockholm?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Home, as in Canada?”

“No, home to Budapest.”

He scrunched his brow. “So, what is the purpose of your,” he looked down at my customs form, “one-day visit to the UK?”

“I’m visiting a hometown friend.”

He looked at my passport again. “London?”

“Yes, London, Canada. We’re hanging out here in the bigger London.”

He waved me through after a few more routine questions and that prompted more routine answers from me. The second leg of my journey began.

Beautiful Stockholm at night.

Beautiful Stockholm in the day.

The journey ultimately kicked off a few days earlier, with my arrival to Stockholm. Alek – of past bro-mantic adventures in Rome and Vienna – was already there. He was looking around town, getting chummy with the hotel staff, finding bars – important groundwork.

Our timing could not have been better. It was the first spring weekend in city. Swedes, like Canadians on the first day of great spring weather, had donned their short sleeves and skirts, took to their bikes, flocked to the bar patios, and stubbornly stayed out as long as they could before the post-sunset hypothermia set in.

The vibes in Stockholm were amazing. The city, already beautiful in its own right, was made friendly and cheerful by this sunny, blue-skied weather. We hit the patios, visited museums, wandered the streets and the waterfront, and went clubbing. We saw a shipwrecked ship in a museum (the Vasa), ate salmon, and decided Stockholm was a damn fine place.

That is an old timey Swedish warship inside a museum.

The visit finished quicker than it should have and Alek and I parted ways. He went north for where his flight would take him back to family in Warsaw. I went south, way out of the city to an airport that would take me to London.

Good weather, good beer, good times, good friends.

I boarded the plane to meet my confused customs official at Stanstead and Nina, my London buddy from another London.

This might sound like the lunatic-y long way around to Budapest, but it was only a little more expensive to catch a later flight in Stockholm for London, crash on a couch, and take a flight the next day to Budapest. Otherwise, I would have to catch an earlier direct flight to Budapest from Sweden.

I couldn’t turn down an opportunity like that!

This was the second time I passed through London and saw Nina. The first London visit was over a year ago.

The night I arrived we hit the bars of East London, stayed until the lights came on in the bar and the Underground closed.

We turned down the chance to ride London’s new rentable Boris Bikes on the treacherous streets of London with some friends, opting for a long, winding double-decker bus ride home.

Nina and a new friend at the British Museum.

The next day we had brunch, hit the British Museum, saw mummies, Greek ruins and Assyrian antiquities, before rushing to the train that would take me to the airport for my flight back to Budapest.

The London visit was brief, just one day. Throughout the trip, I spent 6.5 hours in the air. I pushed through 4 different airports. I read a whole book while waiting, queuing, taxiing and flying. Why?

Seeing friends from home is a bit like visiting home, even if you’re in a strange place, it's a rare, priceless feeling.

Seeing old stuff with old friends at the British Museum.