Trading in nostalgia

Prague photographer Rishabh Kaul once said of the old Kolbenova flea market, "You looked at the stuff and wondered why someone would even sell those things, and more importantly, who would actually buy them. And then you saw the buyers and the sellers in this weirdly anachronistic setting and you understood."

They were trading in nostalgia, he reflected, selling bits of their own and others' pasts, and thereby keeping it all alive.  

Kolbenova has since relocated to the gritty industrial/warehouse district of Prague, moving eagerly into a new, postcommunist era of rampant free enterprise. But it still shows a more honest cross-section of Prague's history and personality than any of the Old Town souvenir centers that sell all the same cookie-cutter gimcrackery.

Every weekend, especially on sunny days, bargain hunters hang from the handrails of every tram and bus heading out to Prague 9. Off a street named U Elektry, a different kind of tourist mecca rewards those with sturdy shoes, a good eye, and a big shopping bag. They might even find a bit of nostalgia, if they look hard enough.

Even one of countless tire displays delighted this small visitor to Kolbenova flea market.

Florida is notorious for its flea markets, its acres of blankets, card tables, and stalls strewn with trinkets of dubious value. But the U.S. capital of fleadom's got nothing on the 12 acres of eccentricities--human and material--packing every inch of the Kolbenova flea market.  It's not unlike Fleamasters, but it's all outdoors and it's mind-bogglingly large.

Kolbenova flea market--12 acres of human and material eccentricity in Prague's industrial district.

Kolbenova has been touted variously as the biggest, weirdest, best, and worst flea market in the world. It's got "biggest" covered, no question, with "most varied" running a close second. 

There, one can find a great many tires, a wedding dress and the sneakers to wear with it, Nazi and communist-era memorabilia, a Ukrainian fish market, hunting knives, Jesus in a crown of thorns rubbing elbows with animal skulls and bear skins, cosmetics, computers, iconography, wooden puppet heads, old bibles and alarm clocks, empty cases without their binoculars, snacks with long-expired "use by" dates, Art Nouveau, and bizarre porn. 

There are even Czech equivalents for "anything in this box for 50 cents."

Anything in this box for 10 koruna.

The basic human drive to discover treasure while spending next to nothing is on shameless display everywhere at Kolbenova. From 6 a.m. until 2 p.m. every weekend they come, exuding optimism, wheeling strollers only partially filled with children, carrying bags, coin in hand, hoping to score the ultimate prize.

Vendors rent space there each weekend, hoping to make the better part of their living at the market, assuming the weather is good.  

Everything's open to negotiation. Americans need only three basic phrases: "Co to stoji?" ("How much?"), "Drahy!" ("Expensive!"), and the ever-hopeful "Zdarma?" ("Free?").Vendors will smile benevolently at such attempts, then provide prices and haggle pleasantly in English while getting to "Okay!"

Children bargain with their parents every step of the way through Kolbenova. 

Rumor has it that pickpockets run rampant in Prague, from Old Town to Kolbenova. In our experience, only moderate vigilance about the state of one's purse zipper or the weight of one's hip pocket is called for. The humanity at Kolbenova ranges from happy browsers to desperadoes no doubt shopping for weaponry, but none seemed interested in our pockets.

These desperadoes were more interested in shopping for a good deal on hunting knives than in picking our pockets.