Unlocking Secrets in the "City of 100 Spires" Known for it's intrigue and cultural brilliance throughout history, Prague was the first stop on my quest for information on perhaps the world's oldest manuscript, The Delomelanicon. Most literary scholars agree that the manuscript, whose purported author is Lucifer (The Devil), never physically existed. But, either through divination or mystical revelation, there did arise the publication of De Umbrarum Regis Novum Portis (The Nine Doors to the Kingdom of Shadows), written by Giordano Bruno, a 16th century philosopher and cleric who was born in Naples in 1548 and burned as a heretic in Rome by the Inquisition in the year 1600. Bruno held the belief in the "Plurality of Worlds," which was the official charge made at his trial; a belief that parallel universes are in existence and that it is theoretically possible to visit them. As a metaphysician, I was compelled to make my own investigation into this matter. I contacted Natalie, and old friend from my D.C. days who interprets both Russian and Czech. These two languages might prove necessary in making difficult connections during my research. To my delight, she was available and interested in visiting Prague to assist me. Also, since Natalie is an opera buff, the revival of Don Giovanni, composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and currently running at the Prague State Opera, helped sway her decision even more. I immediately went online and purchased two seats for the opera, which pleased Natalie and sealed the deal. We met at Newark Liberty Airport; a 7:45 pm departure would get us into Prague in the early morning. Continental Airlines co-partners with CSA, the Czech airlines, which runs non-stop service to Prague on certain flights. By using my One Pass miles, I was able to upgrade to First Class seats for Natalie and myself. With a glass of Champagne to toast our trip, we enjoyed the flight over along with caviar and pirogi appetizers as a late night nosh.
Upon arriving in Prague, we were met by a limo driven by one of Natalie's friends, Natasha. To make things a bit interesting, they both referred to each other as Natasha, which confused the heck out of me. Finally, to make it easier for me and to avoid confusion, Natasha started using the English name Natalie when referring to, well, Natalie. I had booked two rooms for Natalie and myself, but it became clear that the limo ride was a freebie on Natasha's part and that both Natalie and Natasha would be using the second room during our visit. Also, it was assumed, since I really wasn't an opera aficionado, that Natasha would be accompanying Natalie to that evening's performance of Don Giovanni. As we arrived at our hotel, it also became clear that the two women needed some quality time together. After unpacking my bags, I ventured out into the streets of Prague, solo. We were staying at the Dorint Hotel in the suburb of Želivského, close to the Line A Metro. After purchasing a few train tickets, I took the Metro six stops to Staroměstská - Staré Město - Old Town.
Karlov Most and the Blind Prophet
During my initial research at the New York Public Library, I had found a lead to a possible clue etched into the base of a statue on Karlov Most - Charles Bridge. Charles IV’s Royal astrologists predicted the most auspicious time for the bridge to be built—on July the 9th, at 5:31 am, in the year 1357. This time is carved out on the Old Town Bridge Tower as the numbers 135797531. This carving is to be found near a statue depicting the Crucifixion of Christ. Upon seeing these numbers, I was totally overwhelmed - these numbers belong to me; it is my Social Security number! This coincidence unsettled me for a moment, but my goal was to find the statue of St. Jude on the Malá Strana side of the bridge. I found St. Jude, but didn't find any etchings that made sense to me. There was a bit of graffiti, but nothing that I could interpret myself. I had the thought that perhaps Natalie would be able to see something that I couldn't and was ready to return to the hotel, when a beggar called out to me. He was blind, dirty in a stained jacket and ripped pants; to my amazement, he spoke English.
I was hesitant to discuss the reason for my trip to the Charles Bridge, but he seemed to anticipate a question from me. Upon the first mention of The Delomelanicon, he smiled and seemed to stare up to the invisible heavens. "It is best to be blind," he said. "The Kingdom of Shadows can only be grasped with eyes blind to the distractions of earthly life." He handed me a brochure for Kostel Panny Marie Vítězné - The Church of Our Lady of Victory, a shrine just a few blocks from the bridge. The brochure was in three languages, one of them being English. Inside this church resides the Bambino di Praga - The Infant of Prague. This effigy of Christ is revered the world over and even worshipped in a few cultures. In the Infant's left hand is a globe with a cross on top, denoting Christ's rule over the earth. "The Child only points the way," the beggar continued. "There are many worlds, ruled by many forces; the earth is only one part of the whole universe." The beggar advised me to go see the Infant of Prague. "His many vestments are on display...there are hundreds of them. But, one in particular will guide you to the next part of your quest. Each vestment is numbered. Look for number 666...and you will see."
Out of the Mouths of Babes
It was difficult finding the Church of Our Lady of Victory. There were no signs and I had to rely on the map on the back of the brochure. But, I followed the street named Karmelitská to the small church; entering, I found the altar that held the Infant of Prague doll. It is the custom to dress the Infant in rich vestments made around the world by the Bambino's faithful devotees. This day, the Infant wore a pink vestment made in the mountains of Mexico. I followed the sign to the back of the church, where there was a door with a sign that read "Museum." I was told by a woman that almost 1,000 vestments have been given to the church, but that only a handful are on display in the museum. It cost 350 CZK (about $20 USD) to enter the museum, which I paid at the museum's box office. After climbing two flights of stairs, I was met with a collection of doll clothing that would be the envy of any collector. What seemed like hundreds of vestments were meticulously fashioned, in colors that I didn't even know existed. The garments were all numbered, but not kept in any particular order. It took a few minutes, but I found number 666 - a blue outfit with black trim. There was a sign underneath the vestment that read: Szent Istvan Bazilika, Budapest. I asked the docent what the sign meant and was told that the vestment had been donated by the clergy at the Basilica of Saint Stephen in Budapest, Hungary. "It seems that the funds for the vestment were raised by the library at the basilica," she said. Then she continued, "it really is a fantastic library, with many volumes on religion and spirituality." I jokingly asked if there was a copy of The Delomelanicon at the library. "I don't know of the book you refer to, but that particular library is famous for having the writings of Giordano Bruno, in particular The Nine Doors to the Kingdom of Shadows."
I returned to the hotel to find Natalie and Natasha dressing for a night at the opera. We had enough time for dinner, so we made reservations at Pravda Restaurant in Staré Město. It was explained to me that, during the Russian occupation of Prague, the Pravda was a neutral meeting place between eastern and western spies. As I glanced around the giant dining room, I was met with steely glances from the regular patrons. To break the ice, and in the spirit of Glasnost, I raised my glass and offered a traditional Russian toast, "Na Of zdrovia," which seemed to put everyone at ease. It was explained to me that Czechs consider anyone who doesn't offer a toast before drinking to be an alcoholic. One patron from an adjacent table offered me a pieróg, which I gladly accepted. I glanced at Natalie, remembering the wonderful perogi she used to make on weekends at her apartment in Washington, D.C. I had to admit, her's were far superior to the Czech variety.
Natalie's famous Carpatho-Rusyn Pierogi
INGREDIENTS:
2 slices bacon
1 (20 ounce) can sauerkraut, drained and rinsed
1 teaspoon onion powder
3 tablespoons bacon grease
3 eggs
1/4 cup half-and-half cream
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup milk
1/4 cup butter, softened
5 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup butter, melted
1 egg, beaten
DIRECTIONS:
Place bacon in a large, deep skillet. Cook over medium high heat until evenly brown. Drain, reserving bacon grease, crumble and set aside.
In medium bowl, combine sauerkraut, onion powder, crumbled bacon and bacon grease. Stir well; set aside.
In large bowl, beat together 3 eggs, half-and-half, salt, milk and 1/4 cup butter with electric mixer. Stir in flour to form a soft dough. Cover and let rest 5 minutes in a warm place. Grease hands and dough with butter, and knead on a floured surface 10 minutes. Divide dough into 4 sections, and grease each with butter to prevent drying out.
Melt remaining 1/4 cup butter; beat remaining egg, combine egg and butter, and set aside. Roll out a section of dough to a thickness of 1/8 inch. Cut out 4 inch circles with round cutter or glass. Place one tablespoon sauerkraut filling in the center of each circle, brush the edges of the circle with the butter and egg mixture, fold in half and press edges together to seal. Repeat with remaining sections of dough.
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Cook pierogi for 5 minutes, or until they float to the top.
хороший аппетит! (Bon Appétit!)
Since Natasha was dressed in a formal gown, I offered to drive the limo and drop both women off at the opera after dinner. We ordered some cabbage and dumplings, which I'm told is a Czech delicacy. I had a few more Pilsner Urquells, which really hit the spot, and the innkeeper gave me the glass with the beer's logo as a souvenir. He winked at Natasha, perhaps remembering her from her days as a communist party organizer. After dropping off the women at the opera, I returned to Staré Město and walked the streets, thinking of my next step. A voice from within told me that I should continue my quest in Budapest. As I walked through Wenceslas Square, a vendor called me over to look at his wares. He smiled at me and held out a small facsimile of the Infant of Prague. I held my breath and gasped when I realized the Bambino was wearing the same outfit as I saw earlier at the museum; number 666. Turning the statue over, my intuitive guidance was confirmed as I read "Made in Hungary" on the base. I asked the vendor the price of the statue, but he just continued smiling and waved off my offer to pay.
After the opera was finished, I picked up Natalie and Natasha and returned to the hotel. We agreed to talk things over at breakfast and I retired to my room. I awoke from a bad dream at about 4 am, and knocked at the interleading door to Natalie's room. The door was open, so I peeked in to find the two women seemingly exhausted after a night of passion...an empty bottle on the floor. "Ah," I thought to myself, "Absinthe - The Green Fairy." I knew then that I would be going to Budapest alone.
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