Rugged up in the most stylish of thick wooly coats and gloves, we inched our way through the crowd, passing rows of gold trinkets, red and green embroided stuff and dazzling lights, clutching our Svařák (Czech mulled wine) and sniffing out the roasted chestnuts. A full moon haze backlit the intricate details of the gothic cathedrals, and the ambient street lights enticed us along cobblestone paths. We were swept up in the jubilant atmosphere of the Prague Christmas markets on this night before Christmas. Mum and I had chosen to visit Prague as we’d both dreamed of having a white European Christmas together. Although the snow was yet to make an appearance, we were hopeful it would grace us on Christmas Day. I had my camera to capture the light, the moon, the festivities - all so picture perfect. I chose to shoot in black and white to create some moodier and romantic images.
Needing to rest the feet and recharge, we found a restaurant with outdoor seating in a piazza, with big heaters to keep us cosy. We both tucked into a rustic potato and sauerkraut soup, such basic ingredients but so damn tasty. Chuffed with ourselves at having had a serene roam around the city, topped off with a tasty traditional Czech meal, we finalised our bill ready to see what else was on offer. It was at this point that I went to grab my camera bag from under the seat and to my horror, discovered it was not there! My heart started to pound and erratic behaviour took hold. In my determination to find the the camera or the culprit that had stolen it, I pushed myself away from my seat, stood up with purpose and frantically surveyed all areas like a woman that had lost a child. The waiter and nearby diners thankfully joined in the search, but to no avail. How could I be so stupid! I was beyond gutted. My camera was a big part of my life and it accompanied me on all my travels. For someone that is not interested in the accumulation of ‘stuff’, it was one of my only valued possessions that I couldn’t imagine living without. It brought me so much joy, not to mention it’s importance of capturing precious moments I experienced all around the world. The waiter was very apologetic and actually suggested that we go and report the theft to the nearest police station.
I just wanted to go back to the hotel room and cry, however Mum convinced me that we should actually do as the waiter suggested and report it. So off we trudged to the police station. We were confronted with a drab 1970s building, with fluorescent lights and big bars on the windows. Lurking by the entrance were a few suspect looking people and a solitary stern looking policeman drooped behind the desk. His English was minimal, so we commenced a game of charades to explain why we were there. My grade 6 acting skills came in handy as I reenacted the whole scene while he looked at me puzzled. There was no sign of comprehension until I uttered the word ‘canon’ to which a gasp of recognition came over his face and finally we seemed to be communicating. I scribbled down my name and contact number and then he disappeared behind a wall. The waiting room was eerily quiet, beige and bleak except for when the sound of a typewriter cut through the silence. We had a little chuckle to ourselves. We thought bloody hell, if they work off a typewriter, we might be here a while. It was 2006 but clearly these guys hadn’t caught up with the latest admin technology.
We waited for what seemed like an eternity, before we were eventually handed three sheets of paper with Czech words in heavy ink. The man excitedly pointed to the word ‘canon’ that stood out like dogs balls in an otherwise unrecognisable jumble of foreign text. Excellent, we thought - god knows what else was written on the report but we knew they’d documented a canon. With that job done, we got out of there, walked all the way back to our hotel room, the bright moon still hovering above, and collapsed into bed.
We made a pact that we would not let this incident ruin our Christmas. Waking up the next morning, I threw open the blinds to see if my luck had turned. Nope. Beautiful blue skies and no sign of snow. We headed to our lovely Christmas lunch at ‘7 angels’ restaurant - one of the oldest in Prague. A handsome blonde named ‘Fabio’ (no joke), served us for the day and we tucked into a 4 course meal with all the trimmings.
Several weeks later, I was back in London where I was living at the time and sitting at work when I received a weird phone call. The receptionist buzzed me and said there’s someone from the government in Prague on the phone. I immediately thought it must be about the police report. Again, the English of the person on the phone was very basic and they said they’d found a backpack and thought it must be mine. I explained that I didn’t lose a backpack, it was a camera bag. There was an awkward exchange of dialogue but they insisted that this backpack belonged to me. I hung up the phone and was a little disappointed as they’d obviously filed the report incorrectly and I was now going to wind up with someone’s backpack and not the camera and camera bag that I’d lost.
A few weeks later I got another call from the receptionist at work. This time a parcel had arrived for me. It was a massive box about one metre wide with the sender’s Prague address on the back. By this stage, all my colleagues were fascinated by this huge parcel and were also aware of the story of the missing camera. They huddled around my desk awaiting the big reveal. I hesitated for a moment - what if it’s a bomb!. They all agreed it was unlikely and that I should focus on opening it. I waded through the polystyrene stuffing and then, there it was….someone’s well-used grotty blue backpack, just as the police had explained on the phone. Dammit. They really had cocked this up. I was now the owner of someone else’s very dirty stolen goods. I pulled out the backpack and unzipped it out of curiosity. To my enormous surprise, there tucked comfortably inside the womb of the backpack was my camera bag with camera and film still intact! I couldn’t believe my luck. Everyone in the office started cheering and high-fiving me. I took a quiet moment and flicked the camera on. There were all the black and white images that I’d captured at the markets. Inside the bag was also a MP3 player and other bits that this person had obviously stolen on that fateful evening. Who could believe it!!! I was so grateful to my Mum for insisting that we file a police report, and so grateful to the efficiency and generosity of the antiquated, yet highly efficient, Czech police force.
I saw this as a sign that my photography practice was destined to continue. As was the memory of our joyous evening strolling our way through the magic of the Prague Christmas markets under a full moon on the night before Christmas.