Praha Burns

Below is a passage written from the rickety top bunk of a slightly after-Soviet era night train.  Updated post to follow shortly.

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Instructions for trams are hilarious in any language, simply because they attempt to clearly explain what should be painfully obvious.

Rule one: Please don’t tag the public transportation vehicles.  Your mother might think you’re a very talented artist, but the rest of us don’t.

Rule two: If you have a lot of shit strapped to you and generally make a nuisance of yourself spacially, don’t block the doorways.  People might want to get off the tram, and away from you, before your stop.

Rule three: Don’t blast your music so loudly that the person standing next to you (or the conductor) can hear it.  I know it’s hard to believe, but we’re not all fans of Elton John’s Greatest Hits, or Lady Gaga.  Musical imperialism is as gauche as the other kind.

Rule four:  Give up your seat for the elderly and/or the disabled.  In their day, gravity was much less severe.  Their old bones are more fragile than your young ones.  Also, respect your goddamn elders.

If further notes are needed, see the sign. 

A sign I saw while waiting for the tram

I love how all of these reduce simply to: behave yourself when in public.  However, since the tribe of asshole dickwads who can’t be buggered to give a shit about anyone but themselves is encroaching on every front, it’s important to keep reminders in public areas where they congregate. 

The sign above was the first photo I took this morning.  After waking up at around nine, breakfast shortly after that, and chilling in the hotel until checkout at twelve, we decided to treck down to the old hostel to see if they had my hairbrush, which has gone mysteriously missing since checkout from the hostel.  It was the other side of town, so we took the tram.

Upon arrival there, we found that they did not, in fact, have my hairbrush.  Effing liars.  There’s no other place where it could be.  Whatever.  From there, Gill, Judy, and Jim decided to take the tram back to the more populated area of town and find a café in which to sit and look up hotel options for a future portion of our trip.  I wanted to walk, since the weather seemed nice, so we parted ways, agreeing to meet on the town side of the Charles Bridge at 1:20.  This gave me over an hour to wander at my leisure, so I took my time saying “goodbye” to Praha.

An opportunistic swan

I was afraid for this child, but her mother scooped her up quickly after this

Jazz in Praha.  Sort of.

The parks were super inviting, but I had a timeframe, so I couldn't linger for longer than the space of one photograph

Caryatides, which I'd seen but not photographed before

Boys, if you're taking notes, this is the place to propose to your girlfriend in Prage ;-)

A nice sentiment

Mai face.

I was forcibly reminded of the Russian song “Goodbye America,” in which the Russian man plaintively wishes farewell to a place that he’s never visited, and will never have the opportunity to escape to.  Instead of bitterness at the unfairness of his plight, he instead bids adieu to all the aspects of American culture that will never be accessible to him, claiming that he’s outgrown the desire for them.  It’s a silly song, but somewhat appropriate.  If I had the choice, I would probably stay in Prague for years.  I’d learn Czech, walk everywhere, get a dog, and probably die alone in my apartment building, only to be found weeks later, and even then simply because my decomposing body stunk so much that the neighbors down the hall complained.

I took the same route Gill and I had walked our very first day in Prague, but alone.  Saturday means that most stores are closed, and everyone was out with their children and their dogs, playing, relaxing, and enjoying the weather.  The sun was shining, so it was warm enough, but there was a breeze which picked up as the day progressed.  It was the perfect mix of the past two days: warm in spots, but cool enough to necessitate long sleeves and the occasional donning of the fleecey

Some modern art

Most Legii, again

Some more modern art, but this you can climb on!

I have no idea what this says, but it caught my eye

I realized that I hadn't taken any pictures whatsoever of the random waterfall in the middle of the Vltava

Retrospective view of the street

Even Charles Bridge seemed less crowded.  I found and listened to a jazz ensemble, as well as a cello trio, which sounded beautiful.  They played songs I don’t know, and the jazz singer sang in either very accented English, or Czech.  Eventually, I made it down to the other side of the bridge, and Jim met me ten minutes after they told me to be there.  I can’t describe how much panic I underwent in those ten minutes of being unable to find him. 

There were crowds of people everywhere, but no familiar faces.  I knew that they told me to meet them at that particular time, in that particular place, but there was no one there to meet me.  I don’t have a cell phone here, nor do I have their phone numbers.  I don’t have anyone to speak with to get them.  We’re leaving the country tonight.  Where the hell were they?  There wasn’t anything I could do, so I ran over the details of the rendezvous again in my head.  I was fairly certain that there wasn’t anything I could do but wait, so I calmed down a little, listened to the strains of cello music from the bridge, and people watched until he found me.  I was ridiculously relieved that I didn’t have to try and find my way back to the hotel to wait by their luggage. 

Jim led me back to a café, where Gill and Judy were sitting, looking up hotels for a later part of our trip.  There have been so many changes to the itinerary so far that it’s dizzying.  We hung out for a bit, and then went out again to wander aimlessly until our train.

We walked back to the town square, and finally saw the famous Astrological clock in the Old Town Square.  I was reading a sign in Russian about how a famous Ukrainian general had saved Prague from the Red Army when I realized there was someone right behind me.  I turned, and jumped.  It was a giant horse’s face, patiently waiting for me to get out of its way so it could continue to bear travel-weary tourists on its carriage around the city.  I got out of the horse’s way, only to find that I’d been left by my travel companions, yet again, in the middle of a huge crowd of Italian and Russian tourists.  You can tell the Russians from the Italians because the Italians have huge sun glasses, and the Russians have more daring fashion sense.

Very very pretty clock, and a unique symbol of Prague

I found the Sochors again, and we walked further up until we reached a municipal building, where we sat on the steps and sunbathed for a good ten or fifteen minutes.  It was relaxing, and Prague was in a beautiful mood.

Gill and Judy on the steps

Random interjection in the middle of a conversation: "Hey, guys, get together so I can take your picture!"  -manic gleam-

The helpful signs of all the sights, since modern Prague is literally ON TOP OF old Prague

Soon, we saw some strange smoke blowing in from two blocks away.  Curious, we approached the building, and found a huge fire in progress on the top floor!  We’d arrived before either the police or the fire-fighters, so we took pictures, and stood in the crowd until the fire had been almost completely put out.  The building was very beautiful, and extremely old.  I have no idea what caused the fire, or how much damage there actually was, but it looked like the entire ceiling of the building was torched, and the floors below were probably all flooded.

It was as close to a natural disaster as I’ve ever seen, and there was a strange draw to the events.  I’m usually one of the first to criticize rubberneckers on the highway, but it was mesmerizing to see, and impossible to look away.  Everyone got out their cameras.  It was like being in a crowd of zombies, or moths.  No one could think (or talk) of anything else for a long time.

"Is this girl seriously taking our picture right now?"

From there, we went to dinner at a little Italian restaurant between the old town square and our hotel.  There are a huge assortment of Italian restaurants in Prague, probably meant to cater to the insane influx of Italian tourists the same way a lot of the souvenir shops blast bad techno music to lure in the Italians.  I had a seafood salad, which was very good, and came with octopus, squid, and assorted mysterious sea creatures.  After dinner, we walked back to the hotel, discussed potential future stops on our adventure, and gathered our things to go to the train station.

Our train was on time, and we made our way on it.  The attendant speaks a little bit of Russian, and understands more than he can communicate.  He also speaks some English, so he’s fairly easy to understand overall.  Our sleeper cars are adorable, and feature towels, soap, sink, mirror, and hilarious signs in Russian that translate roughly to “don’t stick your shit out the window."

I’m quite tired now, and we have to wake up at six tomorrow for adventures in…drum roll…Warsaw!  Huzzah!  Cue the bad Polish jokes.