The whole thing gave itself away in one look across the river: Prague Castle and St Vitus Cathedral sitting up on their hill above the Vltava, spires going up out of a skyline dusted white, a handful of people picking their way along the snowy bank below it like the view was just something they happened to be walking past on their way to somewhere else. I did not go up to the castle itself this time, did not stand in the line for the cathedral or pay for the courtyard. I let the skyline be the whole point, which from across a river covered in its own quiet traffic of ducks and dog walkers, it more or less was.
Charles Bridge at midday was crowded enough that everyone on it blurred a little in my photos, statues lining both sides the way they have for centuries, the Old Town Bridge Tower rising gothic and dark at the far end like the bridge had been built specifically to lead somewhere impressive. I let the crowd carry me across rather than fight it, which on a bridge that narrow felt like the only honest way to cross it anyway. Old Town Square did the rest of the work: the twin spires of the Tyn Church going up sharp and black behind a Christmas tree hung with ornaments, a Ukrainian flag hanging off one of the buildings facing the square, a reminder that not everything about the season here was just lights and mulled wine.
Prague did not need me to pay for a single one of its best views, and it did not let me forget it either.
Two nights here, the same rhythm as everywhere else on this trip: hostel, walking, a city handing over its best material for free and letting the expensive version of itself sit there mostly unvisited.
