Prague grew up on the banks of the Vltava River, and the city retains an intimate connection to the river. While tourists swarm the famous Charles Bridge that spans the river and links the two halves of the historic city center, elsewhere along the riverfront there are quiet spots where visitors and locals alike enjoy not only the sweeping views, but also cultural landmarks.

Here, the Monkey takes in the panorama from the grounds of the Museum Kampa.

The Museum Kampa is a modern art museum with an emphasis on Central European art. Housed in a restored former mill in the riverside Malá Strana district, the Kampa opened in 2001. In this photo, the Monkey meets a sculpture in the museum’s courtyard.

Straddling a channel of the Vltava, the Mánes cultural center mixes 1920s functionalist architecture with a medieval tower on the location of another former mill. The building was designed in the 1920s by Otakar Novotný as a headquarters and exhibition space for the Mánes Union of Fine Arts, a prominent group of architects, artists, and sculptors somewhat akin to the Viennese Secession.

The Mánes union and its pavilion were shuttered during the Communist period from 1948-1989, but the group reformed after 1989. Although the union has since moved offices, the Mánes building continues to serve as a cultural center, with event and exhibition spaces, a bar and restaurant, and a lovely riverside park on a slender island. When the Monkey stopped during his 2005 visit, he found a burgeoning tango scene. Who knows what you’ll find?

Very near Mánes, the twisting form of the Tančící dům (Dancing House) contrasts with the more traditional lines of its neighboring buildings. Affectionately known as Fred and Ginger (for Astaire and Rogers, the Hollywood dancing stars), the building was designed by Frank Gehry and Vlaco Milunic and opened in 1996, becoming something of a symbol of Prague’s post-Cold War thaw. The Monkey brought his dancing shoes, but sadly couldn’t pry Ginger away from Fred…

Leaving his new friends Fred, Ginger, and Mánes behind, the Monkey headed back toward the old heart of the city. On the left is the small island that Mánes connects to the mainland, and further along the canal is the elegant edifice of the Czech National Theater (see below).

Just a few steps from away from the Vltava embankment, the Monkey inspects the 1883 Národní divadlo (National Theater) and its 1983 extension—quite a stylistic shift over the course of that century. The National Theater, clad in gold-hued stone and capped by a gilded crown, was very much an expression of late 19th Century Czech nationalism (during a time they were still under Austro-Hungarian rule). It was built by public subscription and opened at first in 1881, only to be gutted by fire the same year, followed by a complete restoration and reopening in 1883. The 1983 extension was put up by the Czechoslovak Communist government as a Nová Scéna, or new stage, for the theater. While it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, the Monkey is inclined to enjoy this sort of architectural juxtaposition.

Sibiu was the chief city of the Transylvanian Saxons, though few of them remain nowadays. The city was a major trade center in medieval times, and its Saxon inhabitants built strong walls to protect their enviable wealth from outsiders. The Monkey posed for a quick photo during his stroll through the backstreets of old Hermannstadt (the German name for Sibiu).

When Sibiu was in the hands of the Austro-Hungarian Empire during long periods of the 18th and 19th Centuries, the city went by its Hungarian name (Nagyszében) and served as the administrative center for Transylvania.

Only sections of Sibiu’s formidable 14th to 17th Century walls remain today. The Monkey stopped to examine one of the 39 towers that formed part of the fortifications. Different trade guilds were responsible for building and maintaining the towers; this one is the 15th Century Harquebusiers’ Tower. The Potters’ and Carpenters’ towers are visible further down the street. “What’s a Harquebusier?” the Monkey can hear you asking. A harquebus was a primitive gun supported by a tripod or suspended from a hook. The slits in the tower were for harquebusiers to shoot their harquebuses through. These defenses helped repel the Turks on three separate occasions.

A colorful street in Sibiu leading up to the old ramparts. Who is that mysterious figure lurking in the Transylvanian shadows?

The Monkey pauses for a shot by Sibiu’s Evangelical Church, the spire of which is visible from kilometers away in all directions. Construction on the church began in 1300 and wrapped up in the 1520s, and it was thus originally a Catholic building. The predominantly German nature of the 16th Century Protestant Reformation meant the Transylvanian Saxons caught wind of the confessional changes quickly, and the church soon became a Protestant one. The patterns on its tiled roof also show the Germanic influences at play in medieval Transylvania.

Sibiu is full of narrow alleys and concealed stairways. These served as additional defense mechanisms for the town, as they provided the townspeople cognizant of their presence with opportunities to escape or ambush invaders. Today, the Monkey feels they prove quite picturesque.

It’s the talent contest that launched Abba, Celine Dion, and Dana International. Yes, Eurovision. Still going strong in 2011, despite that Norwegian aural atrocity back in 2009…

The Monkey has been a keen follower of Eurovision since 1996, where he unabashedly supported the short-skirted British entry, Aussie songstress Gina G, with her atavistic, existentialist technopop ditty, “Ooh, Aah, Just a Little Bit”.

After watching his adopted homeland of Germany triumph in 2010, the Monkey was eagerly awaiting the 2011 contest live from Düsseldorf. Part of the fun of Eurovision is trying to gauge whether the millions of viewers will opt for an earnest effort, give their televotes and SMSs to a budding pop star, or choose a ridiculous victor in spite of themselves (examples include Sweden 1984, Finland 2006, Russia 2008 [seriously, Evgeni Plushenko?], and Norway 2009). And amid the dozens of “losers” each year, there are some winners: witness France’s Sebastian Tellier in 2008 and Patricia Kaas in 2009, or Spain’s (Argentine-reggaeton WTFosity) 2008 entry. And lots of ballads you can go digging for…

As for 2011, the Monkey had high hopes for the Irish entry, by the spike-haired twins Jedward. But then, no.

While Moldova, Estonia, Iceland, Italy, and Serbia all put forward Eurotastic final entries worthy of victory, the Monkey’s heart was taken by the pulsating pop sounds of Hungary’s Kati Wolf and her plaintive cry for relevance in the face of the nada, “What About My Dreams?”. An anthem for Europe 2011, if ever there was one.

The Monkey enjoys Hungary’s ultimately doomed entry in Eurovision 2011. And the video:

In the end, the 2011 Eurovision spoils went to the repetitive hooks of Azerbaijan’s “Running Scared”, but the Monkey firmly believes that on this eve, we all win. See you in Baku next year!

The Monkey stops for a look at Dublin’s Christchurch Cathedral. The current church stands on the site of an earlier wooden cathedral, built around 1038. The stone church was constructed from 1172 onward (just two decades before work on nearby St. Patrick’s began). As it fell into neglect in the 16th century, one of its walls and part of its roof collapsed. Centuries of emergency stop-gap repairs came to an end in the 1870s when Henry Roe, a Dublin distiller, provided funds for a restoration, which some accuse of being overly Victorian.

At any rate, Christchurch Cathedral is an important site in that it relates to various influential periods in Irish history. The original wooden church was commissioned by the Danish Viking ruler of Dublin, Sitric Silkenbeard, in the early 11th Century. Norsemen had been raiding the coastal settlements of Ireland since the 8th Century, and in 837 they set up permanent bases, one of which became Dublin (Dubh Linn meant Black Pool in their language). Their influence waned as they assimilated with the native population and the Irish king Brian Boru defeated them decisively near Dublin in 1014.

The cathedral also contains the tomb of Strongbow, the first Norman warrior to arrive in Ireland (1169). Though Strongbow came at the invitation of an Irish chief who had been denied the throne of Leinster, Strongbow’s arrival paved the way for further incursions by the new Norman rulers of Britain. Norman lords came in great numbers at the end of the 12th Century, importing their feudal system and eradicating the Irish clan-based system. It was the beginning of British colonial foray into Ireland.

The Monkey visits Dublin’s St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Built from 1191, St. Patrick’s became Dublin’s second cathedral just a few hundred meters from its contemporary, Christchurch Cathedral (above). It is not clear why two cathedrals were constructed so close to each other in time and distance, though St. Patrick’s did lie outside the city walls at the time and thus could have skirted around taxes or other issues confronting Christchurch, which was within the walls.

St. Patrick’s Cathedral began as a Roman Catholic institution. When Henry VIII’s Reformation created the Anglican Church, he quickly sought to extend the power of that church throughout his kingdom. Rather than ruling Ireland via the earlier-transplanted feudal Norman lords (who had become mostly assimilated with the native population), Henry centralized rule through the royal Viceroy, seated at Dublin Castle. At the same time, many of Ireland’s great churches were “anglicized” into the Church of Ireland, the provincial version of Henry’s Church of England. Today, St. Patrick’s and Christchurch are both cathedrals of the Church of Ireland, though this confession is a minority one in the heavily Roman Catholic Republic of Ireland.

On one of his return visits to Ireland in 2009, the Monkey dropped by St. Patrick’s Cathedral for a second visit. He posed for a long overdue wide angle shot that shows the building’s dimensions much better than his 2003 photo (above) did.

The Monkey stops for a while in the square in front of Vienna’s bizarre Karlskirche. The church was designed by J. B. Fischer von Erlach, and construction commenced in 1716. The dual 33 meter columns are the most eccentric part of the structure, with spiraling relief sculptures highlighting the life of St. Charles of Borromeo, a leading light in the 16th Century Catholic Counter-Reformation.

The Monkey looks stately as he poses by the Austrian Parliament. In the distance you can see the distinctive spire of the Rathaus, home of Vienna’s municipal government.

Vienna is synonymous with Western classical music, with the city playing host and patron to composers such as Mozart, Beethoven, Haydn, Schubert, Strauss (Senior and Junior), Brahms, and Schönberg. Among the myriad Viennese concert halls featuring works by these composers and others is the famed Staatsoper, or State Opera House. Built from 1861 to 1869, it was among the first of monumental buildings put up along the Ringstrasse. The theater was heavily damaged by Allied bombing during the Second World War, but its postwar restoration has enabled the Staatsoper to remain a focal point of classical music performance in Europe. In this rather awful photo, the Monkey takes a look at the Staatsoper’s facade.

The Monkey waits for his horse-drawn carriage to arrive under the arches of Vienna’s Opera House.

The Monkey visits Vienna’s famous Christkindlmarkt in the front of the Rathaus. The Christmas market—which takes place for the month before the holiday—is a tourist favorite, but even the Viennese enjoy stopping by for a warm glühwein (mulled wine) to fight the winter chill. The impressive Rathaus is another of the grandiose projects that came of Emperor Franz Josef’s late 19th Century Ringstrasse developments, and is the seat of the city’s municipal government. It owes much of its inspiration to the 16th Century Stadhuis in Brussels.

Der Affe rests on Vienna’s posh pedestrian parade, the Graben (which actually means “Ditches,” a reference to the moats that were originally on this site). The street is lined with many 19th Century buildings, and seems to be a favored place amongst the Viennese for their evening strolls.

In Vienna’s Christmas market, the Monkey encountered these devilish incarnations of Krampus, a sinister counterpart to Saint Nicholas that derives from pre-Christian, Pagan traditions. Krampus is quite celebrated in Austria, with some reports that Viennese adults like to dress up as Krampus and terrorize little Wienerkinder during the holiday season. That said, the Krampuses the Monkey met were much better behaved than Vienna’s ubiquitous cherubs.

The Monkey enjoys some of the refined, fin-de-siécle residential architecture of Vienna’s city center.

This hilltop fortress, along with the church at right, are foundational structures in the history of Québec. When the French colonizers made Québec the center of their North American empire, they began fortifying the Cap Diamant, which provided a strategic vantage point in all directions; some parts of Québec’s Citadelle date from this period. The British later significantly expanded the citadel as a defense against the United States following the War of 1812. The massive complex of the Citadelle (only partially visible behind the Monkey here) contributed to another nickname for Québec City: the Gibraltar of America (Luxembourg City has a similar moniker, and similar fortifications, in part because both shared the French military engineer Vauban as a contributing designer). The Citadelle is the largest fort actively in use in the Americas, and remains home to the Royal 22nd Regiment, the only fully francophone unit in the Canadian military.

The Monkey visits another important monument in the Haute-Ville, the Basilique de Notre Dame de Québec. The current church dates from the 1920s, but emulates a much earlier (1647) basilica built on the same spot which succumbed to the first of several fires that plagued this, the seat of the oldest American parish north of Mexico.

The Monkey peers up at the flag of Québec. Though the talk of a breakaway Québec has receded as Québec’s economy boomed and francophone cultural rights were enshrined in Canadian law, it’s not that long since the issue of Québec separatism was a mainstay of Canadian political life.

C’est si belle, n’est-ce pas? The Monkey enjoys the aftermath of a quick downpour that left the stone streets and buildings of Québec’s Basse-Ville shimmering in the sunlight.

The Monkey took a cruise of the Chicago River highlighting the city’s rich modern architecture in order to get this stellar shot. In the distance, the black giant is the Sears Tower. In front of it is the postmodern 293 meter high-rise that went up at 311 South Wacker Drive in 1990. And the beautiful rounded building at right is River City, built by Chicago architect Bertram Goldberg, who studied at the Bauhaus School with Mies van der Rohe, in 1987. River City is a condominium complex complete with slips to park your yacht (OK, so it’s a little elitist, but the building is quite eye-catching just the same).

The Monkey toddling on “State Street, that great street,” as the song “Chicago” says. Across the street is the famous Chicago Theater, built in 1921 and home to concerts and theatrical presentations to this day. The theater’s vivid marquee is an unofficial symbol of the city.

The Monkey poses on a nifty handrail by the famed lions of the Art Institute of Chicago. Chicagoans are justifiably proud of their city’s best known art museum, and many a visitor cannot resist snapping a photo of these wise old lions guarding the museum’s entrance.

Founded in 1893 as Chicago sought to establish itself as a city of industry and culture, the Art Institute benefited from the patronage of early Chicago elites. These wealthy families took a particular liking to a new school of painting emanating from France in the late 19th Century, namely Impressionism. After the Chicago well-to-do had snatched up hundreds of works by new, “in” artists like Monet and Renoir, the Art Institute began receiving a considerable collection of donated pieces, many of which are today considered masterworks.

The Monkey hides in a hedge in front of Chicago’s Art Institute. The canyon-esque street running to the horizon is Michigan Avenue, Chicago’s answer to New York’s 5th Avenue.

The First National Plaza (then Bank One Plaza, then Exelon Plaza—annoying how U.S. corporations constantly change place names!) in Chicago’s Loop is a Modernist’s urban square par excellence. Orderly and open, its edges defined by the high-rise office buildings that surround it, the square fills with office workers on lunch break and quiets down considerably evenings and weekends. All the way across the plaza below the blue-glassed block is French artist Marc Chagall’s enormous Four Seasons mosaic. Chagall designed the installation for Chicago at the behest of two philanthropists, William and Eleanor Wood Prince. It was unveiled in 1974.

The Monkey would like to suggest a new name for the place—one that might last longer than the latest alpha bank: Chagall Plaza.

In the early 1960s, Chicago’s city government sought to contract a famous artist to build a monumental work for the plaza in front of the Richard J. Daley Center, a civic office building. Though they were uncertain if he would even consider the project, Chicago’s leaders approached Pablo Picasso. To their delight, he became quite enthusiastic about the idea, and in 1967 he donated a scale model of his design to the city of Chicago. Erected in the same brownish steel as the 198 meter modern tower it was meant to accompany, the unnamed sculpture’s curves and abstract shapes play off the right angles and sleek lines of the Daley Center in a tremendous fashion.

Though initial reactions to the strange 15 meter tall cubist “horse” were quite dismissive, public opinion eventually warmed to the so-called “Chicago Picasso.” Today it is another symbol of the city, beloved by tourists and locals alike. It’s not uncommon to spot office workers eating their lunch by its base while toddlers climb the ramp into the sculpture’s “guts.” The Monkey was happy to snap a shot of the Chicago Picasso and the Daley Center, which form a mini set-piece of modern art and architecture right in the heart of Chicago’s Loop.

The Monkey takes time to stop and smell the flowers. The gothic Tribune Tower (center-right) and the Moorish-influenced Wrigley Building (white, at left) in the distance form a sort of gateway to the Magnificent Mile, Chicago’s ritzy shopping mecca on North Michigan Avenue.

His earlier criticism aside, the Monkey was impressed by the Blue Mosque. It is more captivating on the outside than it is on the inside, but the sheer size of its site, its multiple domes, its six minarets (the first mosque after the Great Mosque at Mecca to have six), and its faint blue color (from the Iznik tiles that decorate it) cannot fail to stop the passerby in his tracks.

If this mosque or another doesn’t catch your eye, one will certainly catch your ear. One of the first things that strikes you in Turkey is the ezan, the Muslim call to prayer. Its half-tone pitches and insistent droning emanate from the minarets of the mosques five times a day, beginning at sunrise or thereabouts and ending with the evening prayer session. The music of the ezan, and the lack of church bells, reminded the Monkey in a most dramatic fashion that he had crossed from the land of the cross to that of the crescent.

Shaky photography, but the Monkey really wanted to show off the nighttime lighting of the Blue Mosque. By night, crowds of young Turks (no, not those Young Turks) gather to hang out in front of the mosque and its otherworldly illumination. A few early arrivals are visible in the background.

The Monkey at the Suleymaniye Camii, considered by many to be the finest Ottoman mosque. It was built in just seven years from 1550 as the centerpiece of a complex of religious buildings including medreses (Koranic schools), libraries, hammams, fountains, tombs, and an imaret (soup kitchen). All were designed by the greatest of Ottoman architects, Sinan, who as a child had been drafted into the janissary corps (a force of Christian children who were conscripted via the hated blood tax into service for the Sultan, often to police the regions of their birth). During his time in the janissaries, Sinan saw military action throughout the Empire, taking in the Christian and Islamic architecture along the way. Beginning as a novice yet ingenious builder of bridges and other civil engineering projects, he eventually won the favor of the Sultan and became the chief architect of the Empire.

The Suleymaniye complex was built at the behest of one of the most important Sultans, Suleyman (“the Magnificent”, or sometimes “the Lawgiver”). It was under his reign (1520-1566) that the Ottoman Empire reached its apex, conquering lands from Belgrade to the edges of Persia. The Suleymaniye mosque itself owes some structural debt to Aya Sofia, which Sultan Suleyman had ordered Master Sinan to restore some years earlier. Inside, however, it gives a sense of being more open, and the white marble walls make it brighter than Aya Sofia.

These two colorful characters were hanging around the Suleymaniye Camii offering visitors cherry juice from the elaborate samovar-esque vessels on their backs. The Monkey was thirsty and couldn’t resist the treat.

The Monkey found it intriguing that one of the men wore a fez, a hat more commonly associated with North Africa (he had also seen fezzes in the bazaars). In fact, the fez was introduced by the reformist Sultan Mahmut II in the the early 19th Century. At a time when the Ottomans were clinging to their Great Power status in a changing Europe, Mahmut felt the fez was more Western than the traditional turban and encouraged all Muslims but the clergy to adopt it.

On the grounds of the Suleyman Camii complex, the Monkey stopped for a photo with some interesting rooflines. In the distance across the Golden Horn, to the left of the small chimney in the mid-ground, is the Galata Tower, where the Monkey went to get some scenic panoramas of Istanbul.

Knut died unexpectedly in his enclosure at the Berlin Zoo on 19 March 2011. The polar bear, who was rejected as a cub by its mother and hand-reared by its trainer, became an international phenomenon in 2006 and 2007, and visitors swarmed to see him. As he grew into an adult bear, his popularity waned somewhat—but even at the time of his death there were some 600 people watching his antics.

The Monkey and the Schlepps express their sadness at Knut’s passing.

The Monkey paid a visit to Knut in December 2009. Though he couldn’t risk falling into the icy waters of Knut’s enclosure, the Monkey did snap a photo with Knut from a distance.

Rest in peace, Knut.

While there are numerous Georgian doors that compete for supremacy in Dublin, the city’s most famous gate undoubtedly belongs to the Guinness Brewery at St. James Gate. The black nectar created here from a mixture of water, hops, barley, and yeast has found its way around the world, winning converts on every continent (even Antarctica’s scientists must indulge every once in a while). The brewery was founded in 1759 on the site of another brewery, but has since expanded to a massive, 65-acre operation capable of brewing 2.5 million pints of Guinness Stout per day!

Whiskey is another of Ireland’s many contributions to global culture; as an Irish folk song says, “Whiskey is the life of man, always was since the world began.” While there is no definitive conclusion to the debate about whether whiskey was concocted first in Ireland or Scotland, Irish whiskey makers are justifiably renowned for their custom of triple-distilling their products for unrivaled smoothness. Here the Monkey prepares to tour the museum set up on the site of the old Jameson Bow Street distillery in Dublin. Jameson opened its doors here in 1780 and only moved out to Midleton, County Cork to continue operations in the mid-1970s.

The Monkey was fascinated by the craftmanship of the coopers who created the wooden barrels in which Guinness Stout had to be stored. In Dublin’s Guinness Storehouse museum, you too can see the mesmerizing historic footage of the coopers’ considerable talents.

Brewmaster Monkey checks that everything is going according to plan with the latest batch of Guinness Stout.

In the past, imbibing too much of either of these places’ products might have landed you in the pillory. Luckily, the Monkey was small enough to slide his head out and escape this one, found in the crypt of Christchurch Cathedral, before anyone noticed.