Situated inside the Prague Castle, the Gothic St Vitus Cathedral is a burial place for former Czech kings. — PHOTOS: IRENE HOE, REUTERS

Artists hawk their skills on the historic Charles Bridge. Egg yolks were reportedly used to strengthen the mortar that binds the bridge’s stone blocks. — PHOTOS: IRENE HOE, REUTERS

The beloved Astronomical Clock, or Orloj, stands tall in the town square and marks every hour with the figurines of 12 apostles streaming out in a procession. The medieval clock also shows the timing of sunrise and sunset. — PHOTOS: IRENE HOE, REUTERS

At a nearby location, the revered playwright and former president Vaclav Havel visits a memorial for the Velvet Revolution. — PHOTOS: IRENE HOE, REUTERS

One of the biggest castles in the world, the Prague Castle is home to priceless art relics, historical documents and Czech Crown Jewels. — PHOTO: IRENE HOE

By Irene hoe

More than once upon a time, these lands were dominated by a foreign power.

Fast forward a few decades. They became free and independent as a single country, but split into two a few years later. Today, the smaller of the two countries has a population of about five million.

Does this sound rather close to home? No way. For here, any resemblance to the story of Singapore and Malaysia screeches to a dead stop. For this is the story of the Czech and Slovak republics. As Czechoslovakia, they went through a Velvet Revolution in 1989 led by the oft-jailed writer and dissident Vaclav Havel.

The fabric of that nation did not hold. In 1993, the Czechs and Slovaks split, in a parting so singularly amicable it has been termed the Velvet Divorce. The Czechs got to keep the flag and most of the castles. Both Czechs and Slovaks say they are each other’s best friends.

If pretty is what you seek, spring is probably a better time to see the Czech and Slovak republics. But autumn, for me, proved the perfect time to visit this part of Central Europe, as it was approaching a historic anniversary.

So it was that last October I found myself in Wenceslas Square (Vaclavske Namesti) in Prague, the Czech capital. My breath was misting in the chill damp air and my creaky knees were complaining about the hours of traversing picturesque streets of uncomfortable cobblestones.

This was the symbolic heart of the shortlived Prague Spring of 1968, which was quickly snuffed out by Warsaw Pact forces. The leader of that failed attempt to reform Czech communism was, incidentally, a Slovak, Alexander Dubcek. He lived long enough to make a triumphant return to Wenceslas Square in 1989 and was elected Speaker of Parliament. He died before the Velvet Revolution.

Almost forgetting to take the obligatory photographs, I stood rapt, remembering the protesters who, nearly 20 years earlier (November 1989) had shouted down their communist masters, chanting ‘Havel to the Castle’. They wanted the playwright and dissident to take over from the communist leaders of Soviet-dominated Czechoslovakia (he did).

This was the square where a Czech student, Jan Palach, had set himself ablaze in January 1969 in protest against the Soviet invasion in 1968. Back in 1918, the first declaration of Czechoslovakia’s independence (it did not last) was read in this place.

Wenceslas Square is not really a square but a stretched-out rectangle studded with heroic statues of heroes past.

This is where my group of assorted journalists, former journalists and fellow travellers relived vicariously the country’s Velvet Revolution that we had seen on TV back in 1989, the year the Berlin Wall crumbled and the Soviet Bloc tumbled.

Then and later, we plied our guide, Martina, with a minor avalanche of questions, as you might expect of a Press Club group.

Once known as the Horse Market, this business and culture hub sits in the New Town of Prague. ‘New’ is relative. The square has been used for all manner of public gatherings since the New Town was founded in the 1300s.

So if this is new, what is old? The Old Town, or Stare Mesto, dates back to the ninth century when Prague was first settled. The centrepiece of the town square is the Astronomical Clock, or Orloj, a wonder of clock-making whose party piece we could not stay to see.

Without the help of a single computer chip, this clever thing tells Prague time, the timing of sunrise and sunset, the appropriate Zodiac sign and a dozen other things your iPhone has not even thought of telling you.

And it has the Apostles. The 12 apostles toddle out from a pair of windows in procession. But by the time the Orloj struck the hour, we had left the square. Well, that is one reason to return to Prague.

Much of the old city has stayed intact. Historic buildings such as Prague Castle (Prask Hrad) have not only dodged thoughtless redevelopment but are also still in use. This castle is at the heart of the Czech government.

The Czechs are said to have some 2,000 castles, palaces, grand houses and ruins, some of which have been or are being turned into hotels. Their very massiveness probably saved many of these edifices from destruction during and after the communist years. Incurable romantics might seek one out as a wedding venue.

The romantic grime of history still coats many of the important buildings, including the towering St Vitus Cathedral, the most imposing feature of the castle. The sky was overcast, but inside the church, the jewel tones of the stained glass windows were breathtaking in detailing Biblical and other tales.

Despite decades of communism and an avowedly atheist majority, many of the individual chapels are elaborately and even sumptuously decorated. There were definitely more gawkers than worshippers in this Gothic cathedral.

It was twilight by the time we got to the famed Charles Bridge. Scaffolding and renovation work, not to mention crowds, put a damper on the romance of this beautiful span. For my next trip, I made a mental note to coax my beloved to visit Prague and drag him out at dawn to stroll the bridge arm in arm, perhaps completing the cliche with champagne.

We needed no champagne to launch - most unSingaporeanly - into Que Sera Sera. There was not a karaoke machine in sight when this phenomenon happened at a Czech institution, U Fleku (Kremencova 11, Old Town) pub, restaurant, micro-brewery, cabaret and museum.

This was where Singapore’s�ambassador to the Czech Republic, Mr Tan Soo Khoon, hosted us to the liveliest dinner of our trip. Encouraged by a jolly chap with an accordion, the 30 or so of us belted out everything from boy scout camp fire songs to Beatles classics to bawdy campus ditties.

So loud were we that we inspired passers-by to stand on tippytoe and peer in at the open windows at this raucous lot. The ancient building, which dates from 1499, withstood the onslaught.

Royal bath cure

The ditties and the decibels prompted Singapore’s Czech consul-general Martin Flachy to declare that we had instantly and completely ruined his notion of Singaporeans as quiet and well behaved (or perhaps he meant dull and expressionless).

All this took place before a single mug of beer had been upended, as many would be that night, washing down a scrumptious pork knuckle dinner. Also on the menu are duck, pork, goulash and sausages - more reasons to return to Prague. This is no country for vegans and vegetarians.

CzechTourism, which provided our excellent guide Martina, also hosted our flying visit to the Karlovy Vary resort, better known as Carlsbad during the time the Germans occupied it.

There has been a spa there since at least 1370 when King Charles IV (he of the famed Charles Bridge) granted this famous city its charter.

There is nothing nouveau riche about this place. It is very old rich, the lightly faded glory of some of its promenades and other parts reminding you of its illustrious past as the playground of princes and plutocrats. Russia’s Peter the Great twice visited Karlovy Vary and in more recent times, Sigmund Freud was a visitor.

As you stroll the grounds of the Grand Hotel Pupp, close your eyes and you can almost hear and see the gilded carriages that bore royals, aristocrats and the vulgarly rich to and from hotels and houses to clinics and ‘the baths’. The place is peopled by the spirit of those who who came here seeking ‘the cure’. The cure, by the way, literally reeks and is recommended only for those who do not mind the perfume of hydrogen sulphide.

The few days we spent in the Czech Republic were no more than a sampler: tasty and tantalising, but not enough.

I wanted to stay in a castle.

I wanted to meet Jan Urban, the former dissident and professor who helped to found Civic Forum, the organisation that helped to overthrow the former regime, and who led Civic Forum to victory in the first free elections, then resigned all his political positions to return to being a journalist. Professor Urban, who was against the split, has said that his country, Czechsolovakia, has been occupied by the Czechs and the Slovaks.

Most of all, I wanted to meet Havel, the playwright, dissident and reluctant politican who helped to destroy the Soviet Bloc.

Appeared in The Straits Times, 2 Feb 2010.