Družstevní ochoz was built in 1941, and has an excellent shape.
‘Družstevní’ is the adjective deriving from ‘družstvo’, which means ‘cooperative’.
Everything within that circle of sorts consists of residential homes built by cooperatives.
‘Ochoz’, meanwhile, would translate as ‘gallery’, but not in the art sense: it’s a ‘a space allowing longitudinal passage through walls’.
So, for example, a ‘hradební ochoz’ would be a chemin de ronde, or a ‘wall-walk’, a raised walkway behind a castle battlement.
Meanwhile, a ‘chórový ochoz’ would be an ambulatory – a covered passage around a cloister, or the processional way on the eastern side of a cathedral, going behind the altar.
‘Ochoz’ can also refer to the stands or terrace in a stadium. And we’ll be spending quite a lot of time inside this ‘stadium’ of residential buildings in the next week or two.
A ‘sdružení’ is an association, a group, or a club. And the name of the street commemorates the cooperative association that was involved in its construction.
This will be something of a running theme for the next couple of weeks, or more; to avoid repetition (or deflect from it), I’ll be adding some vocabulary to each post.
On that note: a ‘zájmové sdružení’ is an interest association, and an ‘občanské sdružení’ is a citizens’ association.
‘Soudní’ would typically be translated as ‘judicial’, from ‘soud’ (‘court’, but also ‘trial’).
In 1850, the High Provincial Court in Prague (Vrchní zemský soud v Praze) was established, replacing the General Court of Appeal. It was responsible for dealing with appeals in Bohemia (not Moravia), as well as checking up on judges, lawyers and notaries.
In 1918, a Supreme Court was formed with jurisdiction over the whole of the newly-founded Czechoslovakia; in the following year, it was moved to Brno.
On 1 January 1950, the Supreme Court – now replete with ‘people’s judges’ – was moved to náměstí Hrdinů. We’ll get to that square soon, so, for now, here’s how the building looks from Soudní (not its best side).
In 1960, it was renamed as the Supreme Court of the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic.
However, when Czechoslovakia was federalised in 1969, two more Supreme Courts were established: one for the Czech Republic, and one for Slovakia. The Czechoslovak court’s jurisdiction was limited to matters concerning the entire country.
In 1991, the Czechoslovak Supreme Court moved to Brno (again). It wouldn’t be called that for much longer, because, on 1 January 1993, the Czech Republic and Slovakia split into two separate countries.
The Czechoslovak Supreme Court in Brno became the Czech Supreme Court; the Czech Supreme Court became the High Court in Prague (Vrchní soud v Praze).
Nowadays, it has jurisdiction over affairs in Bohemia (Moravian and Silesian matters are seen to by a court in Olomouc). It mainly deals with appeals against decisions made by regional courts.
As for the building: it’s called the Palace of Justice (Justiční palác, although this is also translated by the more mundane ‘courthouse’). When Pankrác Prison was opened in 1889, part of its buildings was used the provincial criminal court.
During World War II, the building was used by the Nazi occupiers as an extraordinary court (over 1,000 people would be executed in Pankrác Prison in the final two years of the war).
Things didn’t get much better in terms of justice and basic human decency afterwards; the building was the location of the show trials that led to the execution of Milada Horáková and Rudolf Slánský.
More stories about Pankrác Prison when we get to streets with Pankrác in their name; better photos of the court when we get to the square on which its front entrance is located.
‘Zalomit’ is a verb translating as ‘to break’, ‘to bend’. It can also be used to mean ‘to wrap’, in the sense of ‘wrap text’.
A ‘zálom’ would be a curve or a bend, but it doesn’t seem to be a very common word these days (Polish ‘załom’ gets more hits, but most of these are literary).
In any case, the shape of the street in the map above gives a pretty idea of how it got its name.
As far back as 1361, the Vyšehrad Chapter had walls put round the spring, and replaced the wooden pipes with stone ones.
Much later – in the 1920s, which, you may have noticed, is when all these streets, and therefore a huge number of houses, were built – the spring was filled in.
The internet politely informs me that any water flowing around here is ‘not safe to drink, due to the increased content of nitrates, sulphates and the presence of bacteria’. Well noted.
There are a couple of legends about the spring, but I’ll bring those up again in a few days.
‘Svažovat se’ is a verb translating as ‘slope (down)’, ‘descend’ or ‘dip’.
And that’s exactly what this street does, towards central Nusle.
The associated noun – ‘svah’ – translates as ‘slope’, as in ‘lyžařský svah’, which is a ski slope or a ski run. It can also be translated as ‘hillside’.
I didn’t want to start taking pics of people’s homes, but (you can maybe see in the street sign pic that) this street has rather nice houses.
It is, quite literally, ‘above Nusle’, and also serves as a reminder that, in Czech, Nusle is plural.
I thought this might be because it was formed by the combination of Upper (Horní) and Lower (Dolní) Nusle… but it seems those were already plural too.
One famous resident of Nad Nuslemi was a young Rudolf Hrušínský (1920-1994), who would go on to become one of the most famous Czech actors, especially for playing Švejk in both 1956 and 1957.
A spring called Jezerka is mentioned way back in Cosmas’ Chronica Boemorum (written from 1119 to 1125). Apparently, Libuše – she who predicted the founding of the city of Prague (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/08/23/prague-2-day-93-libusina/) – used to go here to get water to bathe in.
In the Middle Ages, there was a vineyard and homestead here, both called Šustrová.
In 1835, the homestead was converted into a château and was renamed Jezerka; a restaurant operated here.
This was closed down in 1948 when the building was acquired by the municipality of Nusle; in 1949, construction commenced on a park, also called Jezerka.
In the 1970s the former inn building was used as a studio for Czechoslovak Television; since 2004, it’s hosted a theatre, Divadlo Na Jezerce.
But sometimes, that’s not the peak, and you may end up even higher – which is exactly what Vyšší means.
For some vocabulary – thankfully less filled with British and American politicians than the last two days – ‘vyšší vrstvy’ are the upper classes, ‘vyšší moc’ is force majeure, and ‘vyšší vzdělání’ is higher education.
Or, therefore, that the ‘horní komora’ or ‘horní sněmovna’ is the House of Lords (if you’re talking about Britain) or the Senate (if you’re talking about the US).
This three-parter ends tomorrow. Apparently, you can get upper than upper.
The first street leading off Jaurisova, when heading upwards, is this one.
And ‘dolní’ is Czech for ‘lower’. I should warn you that this is part of a trilogy, so don’t go expecting any juicy stories on days 49 or 50.
But, for vocabulary fans, the ‘Dolní komora’ is how we would refer to the House of Commons (in the UK) or the House of Representatives (in the US), much as we would like a break from referring to either.
You’ll also see the House of Commons being referred to as the Dolní sněmovna.
Pankrác Jauris was born in 1847, and was a mayor of Michle. There’ll be plenty of Michle coming up in future posts – indeed, this street is partially there, partially in Nusle.
So, for now, I’ll keep it brief and say that the earliest written mention we have of Michle is from 1185, and that it, like Nusle and so many other Prague districts, became part of Prague in 1922.
From 1912, he also ran a restaurant called Na Jezerce, which doesn’t exist these days, but a street and theatre with that name are still very much present.
Jauris died in 1934. Nowadays, the Michle Sokol is on Pod Stárkou (link to be placed here once I’m deep into my Michle era).
As the street is named after Nusle, this was going to be day one of the series, until I realised that telling the whole story of Nusle might leave me with very little to say about many of the surrounding roads.
Until 1892, the part of Nuselská that was in Nusle was called Michelská silnice, as it was the main road that led to the nearby district of Michle. Meanwhile, the part of Nusleská that was in Michle was called… Nuselská silnice, for equal and opposite reasons.
Anyway, Nusle-specific things on this street that we haven’t look at yet include the Národní dům / National House, which is currently annoying me no end because I know I’ve got a photo of it somewhere.
The Neo-Renaissance building, opened in 1898 when Nusle itself obtained town status, used to be a cultural and social centre, but is now mainly residential.
I’m also quite partial to number 59 – which I can find my photos of. It’s a residential Art Nouveau building, built in 1914.
Its highlight is the two musicians – a guitarist and a lutist – surrounding its front door.
A ‘podjezd’ is an underpass, and this street leads to (‘k’) one.
And this particular underpass leads to Praha-Vršovice railway station, which, as you might have guessed from its name, is not in Nusle (nor is it in Prague 4, so there may be a bit of a wait before I have to write about it in detail).
Luděk Marold was born in Malá Strana in 1865; he was illegitimate and took his mother’s family name. He lost both parents by the age of seven, and was then raised by his aunt, Josefa Maroldová.
At the age of sixteen, he was accepted into Prague’s Academy of Fine Arts, but after a year, he continued his studies at the equivalent institution in Munich, where he produced paintings of everyday life and befriended fellow countrymen such as Alfons Mucha (they’re both in this photo).
However, later in 1898, Marold contracted typhus, and died within a week. He was 33. His wife, Zdena, whom he had married in 1891, would take her own life in 1903.
What's in a Prague street name 