Hey dawg. I heard you like pigs' knees. So I put svinni klini on your svinni klini, so you can pig out while you pig out.

Running a day behind on blogging, so I'll just describe yesterday in this post, and hopefully get through today before we leave for dinner.  Here goes!

Yesterday was our last day in the hostel, thank god!  We checked out at ten, and left our obnoxiously large backpacks in the locked storage room so that we could actually walk down the streets without wanting to die.  We crossed onto the touristy side of the Vltava, in the direction of the Emauzy, a very beautiful monastery we've been dying to visit. 

It was as gorgeous inside as it was out.  The interior was all early Gothic, and the stone was a welcome cooling change from the ridiculously hot weather outside.  It hasn't been that hot at all during our stay here thus far, and the sun was literally baking me as we walked.

A backlit photo of me.  Notice the glaring sun.

The wall on the other side of the monastery

A very pretty stained glass window

The largest aloe plant I've ever seen.  It was whispering "feed me."

He's got the whoooole worlddddd.... xD

Some nice windows into the courtyard

Pick out all the symbolic elements!  I'll give you a hint: the floating animals on either side of Him are Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

In the main chapel

Beautiful shadows

The ceiling, with the distinctive ribbed groin vault of the Gothic

I was wondering what to do about this pesky spinal fracture...

I'm guessing this is Joseph, but I have no idea.

An obscenely beautiful Theotokos, with Mary looking distinctly human.

I could see living here

The bathrooms have no mirrors, 'cause it's a monastery, lulz

The courtyard, filled with greenery

The view to outside, from down a side hallway

More shadows, same hallway

From outside, to give you a sense of the scope

Can't look away :-)

That took care of a good hour or so, and it was time to walk in the direction of a train station.  Gill's parents were meeting us in Prague, and taking us to a hotel room for a momentary reprieve from the hell that is travel on a budget.  We walked to the center of town, and the Czech Narodni Muzeum (roughly translated: The Czech People's Museum), which Gill thought had the capacity to entertain me for hours.  Before sending her off to her adventure, and me to mine, she bought a bit of streudel from the baker's in the train station (which is, counter-intuitively, fresh, delicious, and disease-free) and we both got some gelato from a local vendor.  As I mentioned before, it was hellishly hot and humid.  I was ready to die in my t-shirt and linen pants.

When Gill left to pick up her parents in the airport via metro, I sat in the square for a little bit of time, people-watching.  I was asked directions, and pulled out my map, but only after I was searching authoritatively for the street they'd mentioned did I realize that my map is entirely in Czech, which I don't speak.  I smiled apologetically, and the tourists went away. 

I then went into the museum, which doesn't allow pictures without an extra permit.  I didn't care enough to buy one.  Here are some pictures of the outside, though:

Okay, only one picture, but my camera decided that it wanted to take video instead of behave

The museum was mostly natural history stuff, and almost completely in Czech, so I finished it in about an hour and a half.  It started with ancient man and evidence of in the Bohemian area, and went painstakingly through the evolution of man, clay bowls, fragments of jewelry, etc.  I thought I was going to stab my eyes out with boredom, since I'm not much for anthropology, especially in Czech.  Also, the museum was crowded with school groups, and one thing I can say for the Czechs: they don't seem to like to risk using too much deodorant.  Bleh.

One part that I did find interesting was the portion about Czech fairy tales.  Their personal history is very fascinating.  Apparently, they believe they're descended from one of two brothers, who were walking with their people until they reached a hill.  The first brother, Cech, sat down and said something to the effect of "This hill and the surrounding area will be my land, and the people who live here will call themselves by my name."  His brother, Len or something similar, hung out for a while, and then went further East to found Poland.  Awesome. 

Also, the history about the kings was pretty cool.  All of them were either blinded, had their noses cut off, or did the same to their enemies.  The Czechs also had a piece of history called The Womens' War, during which an army of women took over a city, killed all the men, and held it as a stronghold for a while, until the men tricked them into a false sense of security by attempting to start "peace negotiations."  The men took the city over again, and killed all the women in the army.  There was also a queen of the Czechs named Lucese, who was a very famous seer.  She foresaw her marriage, the man she was to marry, the abundance of gold, silver, and precious metals in her land, the fame of the Czech people, etc.  There was a radio tower named after her in World War I. 

From the museum, I wandered the city for a while, looking at the sights and trying not to get blown away.  By then, the wind had picked up to gale-force, and the buildings didn't offer much cover.  I wandered, and eventually got to the Most Legii, which is the bridge down one away from the Charles Bridge.  I had a leisurely stroll, and took some pictures of both the bridge and the island beneath it. 

Strelecky ostrov, or Island Strelecky

Another shot of the island, the river, and Petrin Hill in the background

The city skyline with the Charles Bridge, a castle, and some paddle-boats

Another view from the bridge.

I liked this tree a lot

Most Legii, which cuts through the Strelecky Ostrov

I sat down on the shore of the Vltava with some mandarin oranges I'd picked up during my walk, and wrote for an hour or two.  It was a relaxing place to sit, and the Czechs all seemed very calm.  I thought about how Prague has withstood centuries of change, but the quintessentially Czech thing about it is that there's a piece of the culture that remains inaccessible.  The Czechs aren't exactly Slovak, nor are they European.  The language reminds me of Russian, but while they can almost always understand me, it takes time for me to reciprocate.  They're willing to smile on occasion, but they're in general a very proud and extremely entitled people.  Their language is poetic and sad, and the city reflects this idea.  What's endearing to me about them is just a tiny piece of what it means to be Czech.  It's heartbreak, but also a very standoffish sense of personal dignity.  I admire them more than I can say.

A statue looking out over the city

Turns out to be an unnamed monk

The walk back to the hostel where Gill and I had agreed to meet takes about an hour from where I was, so I set out when I had eaten my mandarins and written to my satisfaction.  The walk was uneventful, and took me past Petrin Hill, and the ponies, and all the sights I'd seen before.  I walked to Smichovske nadrazi, the metro station across the pedestrian bridge from the hostel, and made it to the hostel with about forty minutes to spare until Gill and I had agreed to meet.  I read for a while until Gill and her dad came in.

From there, we took the metro back to the hotel, which is amazingly lavish and a far sight from the sort of traveling we've been doing thus far.  On the metro, we took up the space of five people instead of three because of the backpacks, and picked up some more delicious pastry.  If you can believe it, I'm hungry all the time here, just because of all the walking.  I swear, I've walked this city up and down at least five times now.

In the hotel, Gill let me into our room, and I laid down into the bathtub for a decadent bath with bubbles, only hot water,I and the whole works.  The water was gray after me.  It was amazing.  I got dressed and went to meet Gill and her parents for dinner.  Gill's mom Judy got me a change purse, which is very useful, since you don't want to carry anything bulky with you while traveling the way we are.  The restaurant we decided on was on the other side of the Charles Bridge from our hotel, so we took a bit of a walk, and heard some lovely trumpet music on the way.

Now, I know I'm a vegetarian, but the national dish of the Czech Republic is Pigs' Knee (Svinni Klini).  They fry it with beer and serve it to you on a bed of pickled vegetables.  I couldn't say no.  So at the restaurant, I ordered pigs' knees, and pigged out. 

I look crazed, but you get the idea.  Oh yeah, the sauces they give you are horseradish to burn a hole through your nose, and mustard for when you can't stand the horseradish any more.

Look at all that meat I ate!  More depressingly, look at all the meat I couldn't stomach any more!

Gill's mom and I decided to be adventurous together.  She was more of a badass, since she was also jetlagged in addition to eating a giant piece of a pig.  It was delicious, I must admit.  The skin was fried and crackly and succulent.  You could taste a bit of the beer, which I hate by itself, but it complimented the flavor of the pig.  Between strips of white, often-translucent fat, was the most tender and melty meat I've ever had the pleasure of consuming.  It literally fell apart in my mouth, and the dark purpley-red pieces were succulent and cooked to perfection.  Roasted, I think.  I was afraid they'd have to roll me down the hill back to the hotel.  Luckily, I made it on my own two feet.  We also stopped in a chocolate store about halfway back.  Food and food and food is all we do.

Once in the hotel, in spite of the working wifi and land-Internet connection, I felt the effects of the pig's knee and the first perfectly soft bed I've had in weeks.  I fell asleep almost immediately, and woke up this morning aching almost everywhere.  At the end of this trip, I will simply be one long muscle, whittled-away-at by the road until there is no non-functional piece of me.  I will also sleep for a month straight, and not move more than a foot for any reason whatsoever.