The hidden cottage on the hill

by Roisin Caird (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find Great Britain

It's a beautiful day in the Czech Republic and I am going for a walk. With summer fully upon us and many of my English students on their holidays, I have the afternoon off, and plan to spend it than exploring Petrin Park, the hill next to the city famous for its mini eiffel tower, statues and stunning views of the city. As I wander through the trees, taking pictures and admiring the scenery, I spot something at the side of the road. A small, ramshackle cottage that looks lifted out of a Grimm's fairytale. As I near, a young man appears at the door wearing a tattered green wizard's robe and a cowboy hat. "Dobrý den!" He waves. "Where are you from?" " Scotland" I tell him, wondering where this is going. "Ah! Scotland!" He says, and begins to sing; 'oh flower of Scotland When will we see Your Like again? That fought and died for Your wee bit hill and glen' Now I'm singing too. 'and stood against him Proud Edward's army And sent them homeward Tae think again' "How do you know that?" I ask. I couldn't name the Czech national anthem, let alone sing it. "I had a Scottish friend, he taught it to me. Now Scottish girl, would you like to see the magical cavern?" I hope that's not a euphemism as he gestures to the cottage behind him. Outside it is a sign which, sure enough, says "magical cavern". "What is it?". He tells me the story of an artist named Reon Argondian, who was born in Prague in 1948. Reon dreamed of being an artist. However, the soviet regime wouldn't let him so he trained as a potter. In 1968, the time of the Prague Spring uprisings which rejected soviet rule, he travelled to Italy to get experience in a potters workshop. Afew days later soviet tanks rolled into Czechoslovakia, sealing it off from the outside world. Unable to return home, Reon decided to pursue his dreams as a painter in Switzerland. After the Soviet government collapsed in 1989, he was able to return home to Prague, where he brought his paintings with him, and they now reside in this obscure little cottage on Petrin Hill. "There is free wine, too" the man tells me, sealing the deal. The whole thing sounds like a trap. I absolutely need to go in. I pay my 70 czk and step inside. "It's downstairs" he tells me. I'm not sure what I expected to find in the basement of the magical cavern, but as promised it is packed with paintings. These paintings depict otherworldly creatures, mermaids, fairies and dragons. Many feature beautiful women, all of whom are naked and sport pornstar proportions. It's arguably a little crass, but the colours are genuinely beautiful, with bright royal blues, emerald greens and choral shades of pink. The room is designed to look like a forest. It's easy to see where the magical element of the name comes from. And sure enough, in a corner, there is the promised free red wine, though no promises on how long it's been out. I take my time wandering around the gallery, snapping photos as proof of the experience. Half an hour later I reemerge from the cavern, bid farewell to the cowboy wizard and carry on my way, reflecting on my encounter. A question I often ask myself whilst travelling is whether the details which delight or impress me would have the same effect back home. Is the artwork and scenery I see here really uniquely novel and stunning or do I just want to believe it is, to make it more romantic? But some places always have a trick up their sleeve, something to catch you off guard whether you're there for a few days or a few months. Prague, to me, is one of those cities, with its timeless quality mixing castles with soviet era trams and postmodern artworks. An obscure cottage-gallery full of naked fantasy paintings by a soviet exile is so stereotypically Czech. A discovery which seems almost commonplace this magical city.