I became aware of them as a first experience on arriving at the Namesti Republiky (Republic Square) in Prague. Not through the sense of sight, which is probably the most heightened sense when arriving at a new place; nor through the tactile senses as my feet hit the ground from the airport shuttle van- their unevenness requires subtle adjustments of the leg muscles to stay upright.
No, it was the sound, that jarring aural battery of plastic on stone as soon as the driver pulled my suitcase (Lil’ Red, short for Little Red Sarcophagus) out of the van and down to the pavement. As I wheeled Lil’ Red away with deliberate speed to cross the square, clattering applause rose up from the pavement. Embarrassed that all eyes were turned to me (which of course they were not), I paused. I looked downwards to see the conbblestones. Thousands of them in all directions. Pragmatically, I wanted to see how I could move along with making a minimal amount of racket. Instead I just paused to admire the lowly cobble. The patterns and sizes on the route ahead were as varied as the facades that lined the square.
As I moved along I listened to the music of wheels on stone. The smaller, tight fitting cobbles, seemingly more like mosaics, produced a short staccato rat-a-tat at a key high enough to affect my fillings. Long, linear cobbles with their meniscus edges mouthed deep guttural moans capped with a resonating ‘thok’ The typical fan array of square cobbles produced crescendos and decrescendos of clatter depending on the angle of attack. Given time and considerable amount of ridicule from bystanders, I think I could have found enough varied textural soundscapes to bang out a Smetana or Dvorak right their in that square!
But I wanted to get to the hotel.
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