Remembering the Magic

New-Old SynagogueThis weekend was the first time I had visitors in Prague. My friends studying in the London program are on their fall break and since we visited them for ours, they’re here for theirs. Becoming the tour guide in Prague has been an interesting experience in many ways. Each time I take my friends somewhere, I experience the memory of seeing it for the first time myself, and my attitude towards it now.
For instance, this afternoon, I took my friends around Josefov, the Jewish Quarter of Old Town. There are a number of old and famous synagogues in the area, and when I first arrived in Prague I took an extensive tour of these sites of worship courtesy of NYU. They are mere blocks from the place that we go to school here, and they are indeed beautiful and interesting places. This afternoon, however, I couldn’t remember how to get around to each of them as I led my friends. We found them eventually, but each time, it was a rediscovery of the sort only accessed by a blank in one’s memory. As I led, I tried to take on the demeanor and knowledge of the elderly Jewish woman who led us back in the verdant green warmth of September. I found myself giving double explanations, both of what the buildings were and their historical significance, and also my own impressions of them, then and now. Prague’s ethos is most suited to the gray and damp that permeates November here, but I remember these synagogues in the warmth and the light. As I told the story of the golem myth, in which Reb Levy, a famous Cabbalist rabbi from Prague, creates a giant man out of mud and blood and sets it the duty of guarding the Jews of Prague, I began to remember the magic of Prague.
My friends have continually exclaimed over the beauty of Prague, a fact that is easy to forget as we inevitably translate even the most foreign places into the blurry background of our everyday lives. Seeing and hearing them this weekend has made me remember exactly why we called this place “The Magic Kingdom For Adults” for the first few weeks. It’s beautiful, steeped in lore and history, and this is a phenomenon worth remembering. The Golem, as I told my friends, was said to have climbed into an attic in the Old-New Synagogue, the oldest synagogue still holding services in Europe, to sleep until the Jews of Prague needed its protection again. It’s a wonderful story, a wonderful example of the magical, mystical character of Prague that so many have remarked upon over the centuries. Magic is foreign, however, and in the attempt to normalize this experience, to make it feel like home, where everything is familiar, the magic of Prague has begun to wear, and I am not alone in beginning to think, “I kinda wish I was at home.” But having new people here to show around and to revel in the experience with has made me remember why I love travel, and why I love magic. It’s not home, it’s new.