‘Svépomoc’ is self-help; the adjective from this is ‘svépomocný’.
If you’re like me, you’ll see ‘self-help’ and think ‘book’; however, it’s also a legal term, referring to individuals exercising their rights without having to consult higher authorities.
In the case of this street, Svépomoc was the name of the building collective that created the houses in it.
People might be excited to hear that we only have one of these 1930s-building-cooperative-success streets to go.
A slight variation on the theme today: we already know that the streets around here were built in the 1930s, and that most of the street names were designed in celebration of that.
Today’s is a bit more to the point: the street had four buildings on it when it was built – čtyři domy – and still does.
Just to keep us on our toes, they’re numbered 1, 3, 5 and 7.
‘Úspěch’ is ‘success’. It can also be translated as ‘achievement’ or ‘attainment’.
And, yes, once again, the building of all the streets around here was indeed seen as an achievement. We have to assume the street namers were being positive, and not quietly considering that the work had been done ‘se střídavými úspěchy’ – with varying degrees of success.
This is the first time that I wrote one of these posts and then stopped to wonder if I’d already written it before. But – good news alert – we’ll be out of this zone after day 80.
That literally translates as ‘on the better’… something. ‘Note’ would fit in quite well.
One theory has it that this once a name for the local land, so called because its soil was superior to that of neighbouring areas.
However, if you’ve been following the last batch of street names, this seems unlikely, as far as theories go.
It’s more likely to be linked the other street names around here, which commemorate the success/results/etc. of the building works that have resulted in these residences existing in the first place.
For lepší-related vocabulary, there are some well-known phrases, such as ‘Všechno nejlepší!’ (‘all the best’, but also ‘Happy birthday’), ‘nejlepší střelec’ (a top scorer, or golden boot), and ‘obrátit se k lepšímu’ (to turn for the better, which is definitely what Prague would like the weather to do right now).
If something is ‘zdařilý’ (feminine: zdařilá), it’s successful, well done or just plain good. The adjective derives from the reflexive verb ‘zdařit se’, which means to succeed or to turn out well.
And, in 1938, whoever was in charge of names of streets decreed that the building job done over the last ten years or so, including the creation of multiple new dwellings, was, indeed, a job well done.
‘Zdar’ translates as ‘success’ or ‘luck’. If you were to say ‘Mnoho zdaru!’ to someone, you’d be wishing them good luck.
It derives from ‘dar’, which means ‘gift’ or ‘present’. It’s also where we get ‘nazdar’, which takes third place to ‘ahoj’ and ‘čau’ in the ‘how to greet your friends’ rankings.
And the street was named to commemorate the success of those who had built it and its houses.
It’ll be (extremely) clear to anyone following these recent posts that there was a lot of construction of residential buildings around here in the 1930s and 1940s. A lot.
By 1947, this street didn’t have a name yet. Not feeling terribly creative, the Central National Committee of the City of Prague declared that, as the street was the result of the hard work done by the builders, the street should be called what literally translates as ‘on the result’.
‘Družnost’ would typically be translated as ‘sociability’ or ‘gregariousness’. Both of which are fine qualities.
However, the street name comes from that which has been discussed a lot in recent posts: this area, formerly part of the Jezerka farmstead (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2025/03/19/prague-4-day-51-na-jezerce/), was sold to construction cooperatives (družstva) so that they could build residential buildings.
The Rašíns were quite high-profile in the early days of Czechoslovakia: Viktor’s brother, Aloiš, eleven years younger, had been the country’s first Minister of Finance from 1918 to 1919.
The insurance company was taken over by Viktor’s son, Jaromír; by 1928, it was the second-biggest insurance company in Czechslovakia.
Jaromír, a man of many interests (including book collecting and beekeeping), also tried to establish himself as a writer, without major success.
Despite its name, 80% of the company’s shares were owned by a German insurance company; in the 1930s, this stake would be taken over by a Nazi insurance company.
Soon after the Munich Agreement – giving the Nazis the green light to annex the Sudetenland – was signed in 1938, Rašín emigrated to Yugoslavia, dying at his home on the island of Hvar in 1951.
The street name gives the impression that this is street is next to Slovanská pojišťovna’s office, which it quite clearly isn’t. It does, however, consist of homes built by the company for its employees.
Another day, another case where a construction cooperative built the homes in the street: its name, ‘Život’, translates as ‘life’.
Which makes it pretty damn unsearchable, but at least we can compensate today with some phrases.
‘Posmrtný život’ is ‘life after death’, or the afterlife; a ‘příběh ze života’ is a ‘real-life story’ (Czech leaves out the ‘real’, correctly realising this should be implicit); something that has a ‘jepičí život’ is short-lived – literally, it has a ‘mayfly life’.
Meanwhile, ‘život nadoraz’ is ‘life in the fast lane’, and, if you’re ‘životem protřelý’, you’re worldly-wise.
‘Životaschopný’ means ‘viable’, and ‘životopis’ has created no end of confusion for me at work before, as it’s not only a CV, but also the brief biography you might find for people on their company’s website. Meaning that the question ‘Can you provide me your CV?’ is never quite as straightforward as I’d once imagined.
The houses in this street were built by a construction cooperative called Ideál, and you try putting a word like that into Google and getting the results you want.
In this case of this street, all the homes were built by a construction cooperative called Repo.
The word ‘repo’ relates to a lending rate, but it seems there’s nothing about this cooperative on the internet at all, although a housing cooperative called REPO 97, founded in, yes, 1997, is registered in the street.
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.
