This document summarizes stories told on walking tours in various cities: 1) In Prague, the creator of the astronomical clock, Hanus, was celebrated until the city leaders had his eyes gouged out for fear he would create a better clock for rivals. He took revenge by throwing himself into the clock's gears. 2) In Bucharest, Nicolae Ceausescu and his wife were ousted as leaders and became vagrants after his last speech went badly. They were later captured and executed. 3) In Budapest during WWII, Nazis tried to remove a statue of the Jewish composer Mendelssohn from the opera house, but ended up taking down the statue of Wagner by mistake

1. Ambling Expeditions
Our bus broke down in the desert about an hour out of Esfahan, Iran. It was evening
and the desert heat had subsided so we disembarked to catch the cooling breeze blow-
ing across the wasteland. Small disasters are great conversation starters and in no
time I was chatting with two fellow passengers. Both Iranian they had excellent Eng-
lish, which was necessary due to the fact my Farsi lexicon amounted to a mispro-
nounced please and thank you.
One was a young student named Amir. He wanted to practice his English and won-
dered if I would be able to give a lesson while in Isfahan. Having just spent a year
teaching English in South Korea I had little desire to break up my sightseeing and so
proposed a “cultural exchange” . Amir could practice his English while showing me
around his home city.
This was my first city walking tour and proved to be an ideal orientation to the city’s
history and culture. Thus hap chance turned catalyst prompting me to seek out walk-
ing tours in the other destinations en route. Most destinations, especially capital cities
offer walking tours. Being a frugal character, some could argue cheap, I sought out
the walking tours marketed to those less willing to hand over a fat wad of cash. The
average tour time was about 2 hours at the end of which you should tip if you enjoyed
the experience.
One huge benefit to a walking tour is if done on the first day you can get orientated
with a city without craning continually over a map. The highlight of the tours for me
are the off brochure quirky stories told on location. These tales are always presented
as fact but most are subject to poetic licence and should be taken with a grain of salt.
This blurring between reality and fiction, to me like Seanachai legends of old, offers
a more personal insight into the character of a country and its citizens The following
are short extracts from the tours recounting but a few of the tales imparted .
The Broken Clockmaker
Orloj can be found in the old town hall, in the old town square of that very old city
called Prague. As you might have guessed Orloj itself is old. It is an astronomical
clock dating back to 1610. A keeper of time, celestial oracle, not to mention hourly re-
ligious pantomime, it is no ordinary timepiece. This tale however is not the legend of
Orloj but of its creator, Hanus. The clock is very impressive even now but back in the
day it was an unparalleled mechanical masterpiece. Visitors flooded the city in droves
to lay eyes on the technological innovation and Prague became the toast of Europe.
What with the enhanced revenue and prestige - the city council were overjoyed. Those
practical men decided to throw a celebratory feast for the ingenious inventor. Mr
Hanus donned his Sunday best and promptly attended the party to revel in his success.
“Hurray for Mr Hanus!” Cheered the revellers. “Hurray for Prague!!” Even louder.
“Hurray for hot pokers!!!” All cheered but for the confused Mr Hanus. Then the
Machiavellian council had the poor inventors eyes gouged out for fear he would up-
stage his masterpiece in a rival city. Hanus, broken but not beaten, reeked his revenge.
He implored an apprentice to guide him above the clocks giant mechanics whereupon
Hanus flung himself into the gears. Tragically the only human instrument capable of
fixing the clock lay churned within its broken innards.

2. Vagabonds
In December 1989 two very unusual vagrants could be seen hitchhiking a cold Roma-
nian countryside road, their final destination Taragoviste. What made this pair so ex-
clusive was that just twenty four hours earlier they were the Lord and Lady Macbeth
of communist Romania, one Nicolae Ceausescu and his hated wife Elena. I listened to
this story beneath the balcony from which Ceausescu made his last fateful address,
overlooking what is now Revolutionary Square. A rally had been orchestrated by the
hierarchy following anti government demonstrations in Timisora during which secu-
rity forces fired into a crowd of men, women and children. The balcony itself is
much closer to the ground than video footage suggests. Perhaps it was such proximity
to the seething masses of dissenters that caused the dictator to visually buckle. What-
ever the reason, buckle he did and what was meant to be an orchestrated spectacle of
support turned into a spark of revolt. The tyrant - shaken by the jeering crowd - let
slip his mask and transformed before the eyes of millions into a doddering old man.
The cameras averted too late to sway the attention of the downtrodden from the man
behind the curtain. Damage done, the married couple and all affiliated with them be-
came instant pariahs. A mob stormed the Central Committee building on the 21st De-
cember but the Ceausescu’s, fleeing by helicopter, eluded capture. The army, realising
their leader was finished, shifted allegiance and ordered all air traffic to land or be
shot down. And so the now vagrants took to hitchhiking. They were picked up by a
friendly old chap who took them into hiding and promptly alerted the police. On the
25th of December, a mere four days after the address, they were executed in Targo-
viste. A stark reminder that power is perception.
Fall of the Valkyries
Atop Budapest’s neoclassical opera house, statues of the great composers stand senti-
nel to the passer by. During the war years Budapest was a Nazi occupied city and one
day a high ranking official got a bee in his bonnet. He had learned that Mendelssohn,
the Semite composer, was up there mingling with the greats and looking down upon
the Aryan occupiers. This would not stand, it was decided. Out came the ladders and
up went the storm troopers only to discover none of the statues were labelled. How to
oust the Jew? They pondered. One champion of phrenology had a solution. Measure
the noses of the statues of course! So out came the measuring tape and after some
hard graft down came the big nosed culprit. Once on ground level, the back patting
vandals stood around the statue noting the unmistakable blemishes of its features, so
common all agreed to that inferior race. A classical music enthusiast happening by
noted the statue would make a fine present for the Fuhrer. Affronted, the soldiers de-
manded explanation. The bewildered man pointed out Mein Fuhrer would surely ap-
preciate a statue of his favourite German composer, Herr Wagner….. Out came the
ladders.