Bohemica Olomucensia

The Latin wording genius loci is invoked more often than its Czech translation duch místa, the spirit of the place, although both words duch (spirit) and místo (place) are used on their own liberally and with the same range of meanings as their English cognates. It is as if the very sound of Latin evoked an aspect of that which the expression refers to, something that is both real and elusive. The problem I and all my friends and acquaintances face is that the genius loci have gone missing. When approached about this issue, some were agitated others nonplused. All maintained that things had changed, that the Old City has lost its charm and, with the exception of a couple of pubs and cafes, was best avoided, as most did, unless you worked there and had to pass through it. A few maintained that it was quiet and "ours again" (opět naše) at night and at the break of dawn and for a few weeks in February. I disabused them of this naive opinion by playing the deafening arias from an unknown Scottish operetta I had recorded from my hotel window at around 3:00 AM, performed while kicking an empty beer bottle by a group of heavily tattooed and inebriated men in pleated skirts returning from the Irish Pub, which is just around the corner on Liliová, right across the street from the Pussy Bar. However, a friend, old enough to recall the final years of the First republic and World War II, insisted that "the genius loci was first trampled by the Nazis and, with the systemic neglect of the Communist era, it had no time to recover". While she agreed that the tourist plague is further grinding it into the ground, "at least the buildings are getting repaired and shops have opened up, there is some color and life where it was so dreary ever since the German armies entered 60 years ago".