Prague Tourism Challenges Homeless Stereotypes
Tour company employs former-homeless guides to share their perspective
On the frosted stairs of the Memorial to the Victims of the Communist Regime, across from the Újezd tram stop, stand a group of bundled-up tourists highly engrossed by the stories of their guide. “I’ve been playing the violin for 44 years, I started when I was just seven years old,” says Vojtěch Fiedler, a humble, grizzled musician turned tour guide. With graying hair and a violin much larger than the grocery bag under his arm containing it, he stands among them in the center of the human-circle made around him. A light snow falls down, but they’re too invested in Vojtěch’s story to react to the cold.
He explains he was once a violinist in the Prague Orchestra, performing at the National Theater on various occasions. “I left the National Theater and put together my own chamber orchestra, with which I traveled the world for over 20 years.” Vojtěch pauses, lights a cigarette from the pack in his front pocket, takes a puff, and continues on.
Prague through the eyes of a tourist is the safe, boring experience. Mediocre museums, underwhelming restaurants, and petty Czech-to-English marketing. A false city is represented through tourism, as it can feel more like a seven-century-old amusement park than a functioning metropolis. For some, the real city can be seen through those who have called the very streets their home.
Prauglic, a Prague based tourism company, employs a motley crew of intriguing guides that bring you through a not-so-traditional walk. You’re not looking up at golden domes or spires but rather kept at street level. Tourists are shown the less lovely sides of Prague by visiting a segment of the hidden prostitution ring and drug scene or by following a former member of the communist secret police.
Though every one of the tour guides offered by Pragulic has a different personality and history, they all have one thing in common. All have been homeless at some point in their life. Prauglic’s founder and CEO, Tereza Jureckova, describes their organization as a “social enterprise that challenges the stereotypes associated with homelessness by enabling people to experience the world from a homeless perspective.”
Each tour guide leads a group through their old stomping grounds of Prague, every tour being an entirely different experience. “Basically, [mine is] the route that I took to school. I start at Újezd, go to Kampa, across Manes Bridge and end at Stavovské Divadlo,” explains Vojtěch.
Arriving at the rear of the Rudolfinum, traditional tourists expect to hear about the neo-renaissance style or the various artists that played here. “This is where I’ve had the privilege of meeting the biggest morons I’ve ever come to know.” Vojtěch goes on to say that during his schooling, the Rudolfinum was used for music lessons, class concerts and because his own school never had a proper gymnasium, PE class. Vojtěch goes on, “…after I finished school I had to go into the army for two years. However, I was in the army ensemble. So I was still able to continue playing the violin.”
Despite being able to continue his passion, it didn’t mean he had to enjoy his service. “I hated it. Many people had it worse than me, but for me, it was a two-year waste of time,” he remarks. Vojtěch takes out his violin and performs a piece he learned all those years ago under the roof of the Rudolfinum.
All of the guides have a niche, Vojtěch’s happens to be that he was a musician in a time that expressing one’s self was highly frowned upon; during the Soviet rule of Czechoslovakia. Which seems appropriate as he has his tour groups meet him mere feet from the Memorial to the Victims of the Communist Regime. When asked if he believed he had been a victim of the regime himself, he replied, “Obviously, I didn’t like the former regime, but on the other side, I cannot say that I lived a bad life under it.”
He goes on to say, “We weren’t free, however, the former regime wasn’t against classical music, so I could have had it a lot worse. I was even allowed to leave the country to play in the orchestra.” Vojtěch was tasked with gathering a number of other Czech musicians and form a small-orchestra to play in Greece.
“If you were lucky, as I was, you were able to pursue your passion, and if you didn’t speak out against the system; you were left alone. But unlike today, there was no freedom of choice. You couldn’t [usually] leave the country, or buy specific food because they just weren’t available. It was a completely different mindset,” he explains.
Vojtěch returned from his service to find that he had been paid with misfortune. “Two months after I returned from Greece, my mother passed away. Then, on Christmas Day I was evicted from my home.” Vojtěch’s apartment building was torn down to make room for a new hotel. “That’s how I ended up on the street,” he says as he adjusts the strap of his bag.
For over seven years, Vojtěch wandered the streets without a home. “I can barely remember the first four months because I was drunk the entire time,” he adds. After being kicked out of the park he was staying in, Vojtěch finally found a job nine months after becoming homeless. However, it was short lived. The laboratory he was working at soon closed down, and Vojtěch was back on the street. Eventually, he found a somewhat-cozy cave to live in. “I made quite a bit of money begging, so life in the cave actually wasn’t so bad. Although I knew I didn’t want to live in a cave for the rest of my life.”
The final destination Vojtěch takes his tours to is Stavovské Divadlo, the Prague Estates Theater, or simply known as the National Theater. Vojtěch turns to his audience, points at the theater, and excitedly asks, “Has anyone seen the film, Amadeus?” Amadeus, a 1984 American period drama directed by Miloš Forman, follows the early career of an eccentric, young Amadeus Mozart. Its local Czech familiarity comes from that many of the scenes in the film were shot in Prague, and more specifically, in the National Theater.
“I was featured in the film, my whole orchestra was. But we only filmed the picture, the sound was added later.” He explains that a special lard was added to the bows of the string instruments to allow them to be seen, but not heard. However, this made the bows especially slippery. “So what I managed to accomplish, because of the rigorous movement required to play this piece, I managed to fling the bow into the camera that was filming us, and break the lens.” A mischievous smile remains on Vojtěch’s face as he continues. “Miloš Forman screamed at me for ten minutes straight,” Vojtěch chuckles for a second, “but then he invited me for a beer and we spent an unforgettable three hours together.”
Pragulic supports their guides with a salary, accommodation, legal counseling, psychological help, as well as providing a cell-phone service and internet access. “When we started the project, the main idea was to assist homeless people to return to ordinary life as soon as possible while leading the tours with us. Although we realized really soon it wasn’t so easy to reintegrate them [into] society,” says Jureckova.
On top of his tourism gig, Vojtěch is a janitor for the Prague Cultural Center and the Prague Gallery. He even held a job as a private music teacher for a bit. Vojtěch comments, “The problem here is that many of the homeless people here are either depressed or mentally ill. For many people, it’s also a lifestyle. But for me, it wasn’t.” He goes on to say that you can live a decent life being homeless. When living in the cave, Vojtěch went to beg around three times a week for a few hours, eventually making 3,000 CZK [$130 USD] more than when he was teaching.
Although he still struggles now and again, Vojtěch seems content with the life he has. “I didn’t want to live on the street for the rest of my life. I am a happy man, though it might not be apparent at first glance.” Vojtěch’s story and those of his fellow Pragulic tour guides offer something more than just a tour of a Czech city; they offer a tour of the human condition.