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I must confess. When I decided to visit Prague, I only thought about the largest castle in the world, towers and beers. At the moment I got there, I was in love. The city is the perfect scenario for a romantic movie. The narrow streets. Stunning antique buildings. The sound of the astronomical clock. I was in one of the biggest cities in Europe, in which I felt being in an old town in the countryside. I decided to end my first day there as a truly Czech. At a food truck near the Charles Bridge, I ordered the classic “old Prague ham”: tender, tasty and with the appropriate amount of fat. Eating it with a glass of pilsner while watching the sunset reflecting on the Moldova River, was unique. On the other side of the river, the dark brown of the roofs contrasting with the light colors of the houses was the metaphor of perfection. Among this marvelous moment, something caught my attention: a small group doing a walking tour in Portuguese. As a curious Brazilian, I paid attention and could hear the guide telling them about a Jewish and Communist Tour that would happen the next day. Of course, I would show up there. While heading to the meeting point, my only thought was that I would hear the traditional history told in the western world by people that studied it but had not lived it. I couldn't be wrong enough. The guide, named David, was a Cuban guy that moved to São Paulo when he was only five years old (which explained his perfect Portuguese). However, during his youth, his family moved to the Czech Republic, where his uncle became a History professor at the University of Prague. It was in the sixties and David decided to help his uncle to prepare some classes. He felt in love with the subject though. While David was guiding us, I was not in 2019 any longer. Due to him, I was able to travel through time. At the first moment, I was in the early ’30s, walking through the “Petschek Palace”, a gray and dirty edifice, curiously constructed by a Jewish, headquarters of the Gestapo in Prague. A few minutes later, I felt being in 1968, during the Prague Spring, surrounded by 800 thousand people at Wenceslas Square, defending my civil rights and the democratization of the country The pinnacle of the tour happens at the Saints Cyril and Methodius Cathedral, where representatives of the political resistance hid after murdering Heydrich, a high-ranking German SS. Inside the crypt of the church, in which the resistance killed themselves, an atrocious energy hoovers through the air. I felt like fighting for survival with them and couldn’t wait to breathe the regular air outside. But, when I got there, I wanted to run away and hide. I could still feel living that historical moment. Nonetheless, the strain can be relieved at the YMCA Palace, where there is a working “paternoster lift”: quaint, startling and effective. It never stops, has no knobs and, astoundingly, has no door. Finally, I am guided to “Josefov”, a neighborhood that arose during the Middle Ages from the union of two Jewish communities. During World War II, Hitler gave orders to cast out people who lived there with the idea of preserving the place as a museum of an extinct race. When the tour is finally finished, an antagonistic feeling got me. I was sorrowful, I wish I could have known more about the unexplored part of Prague, but I was happy that I no longer had the feeling of living such a gloomy period of History. Looking for some bliss to end the day, I went to Old Town Square. Sitting near the Orloj, the Astronomical Clock, I eat a Trdelnik. The pleasure of tasting such a traditional dessert is almost capable of making me forget about I had lived a few moments before.