I’ve had Petrin Hill on my list of places to visit for a few years, since I read about it in Milan Kundera’s book, The Unbearable Lightness of Being.
Though I’ve read all of Kundera’s books, I’ve thought this the best of them, and was especially intrigued by what Kundera describes as daily life during the Soviet occupation of Czechoslovakia.
Petrin Hill, named after the large rocks found on its slopes, is part of a park that is almost completely covered in forest.
I didn’t expect such beauty.
It is a long climb up cobblestone pathways in the rain to the summit, but I am well rewarded by having the enclosed flower garden to myself.
From the flower garden, I wander into the Rose Garden, which again I have to myself.
The summit isn’t without its tourists, however; they are collected by the Petrin Lookout Tower and the Cathedral of Saint Lawrence, eager to spend their money.
For thirteen Canadian dollars I could extend my long climb up Petrin Hill and take the circular staircase – 299 steps I overheard someone say – to the top of the Lookout Tower.
No thanks.
On my descent, I find an even better view of Prague, framed against some beautiful trees.
From one of the trees, a tan-coloured squirrel scolds me for some offence, and I reply that I’m innocent.
Near the base of the hill is a memorial – more like a work of art really – depicting six phases of a nude man as he progresses from a nearly unrecognizable form into a fully-formed man.
The accompanying stone reads as follows: “The memorial to the victims of communism is dedicated to all victims, not only those who were jailed or executed but also those whose lives were ruined by totalitarian despotism.”
One can easily forget, with the current vibrancy of the city and tourists snapping photographs of everything Prague, that people have suffered greatly in the country’s past for today’s freedom.
