Prague - Bohemian Rhapsody
Trip Start
Mar 03, 2005
1
48
235
Trip End
Ongoing
Prague,
Czech Republic
Friday, July 8, 2005
I did make the train to Prague in time. It was a dreary ride as the rain has set in here in the Czech Republic and even though it is the middle of summer, its around 11 degrees. It is a strange scenario knowing that it is summer here, winter at home,and yet warmer at home.
My hostel booking turned out to be disastrous. They told me there was water damage, but then they told the same thing to two American guys who followed me in, so instantly I knew it was a crock. They wanted us to all 'haul-ass' as the Americans said, across town in the rain to some other dodgy hostel, so after much anger from all three of us, deposits were returned and I headed off to another hostel where some 'friends' I know are staying, hoping there was a place for me.
'Friends' when you are travelling on the cheap is a unique term. It basically refers to people who become your instant buddies, who you spend a remarkable amount of time with, who you eat and drink with, who you don't actually know alot about, but are suddenly thrust into your life as life long buddies, even though the chances of actually seeing them again in your life is minimal. (note - Goatgirls are excluded from such definitions) But still there is an endearing quality to the relationships. You only know them for a short time but you tend to look after each other. Comerarderie in folks far from home.
Simon and Jenny, the Sewth Efriken brother/sister combination are here. We hung around in the late afternoon and grabbed a bite to eat, aiming to catch up with Ethan (the American who fell out of the raft) for a drink, and a wander across Charles Bridge at night, with the Prague Castle lit up to the max as the backdrop. It is a bitter night in Prague, with an icy wind.
Karlstejn is only 45 minutes from Prague by train, in the heart of the region of Bohemia. As with every decent Czech village, it has a giant castle overhanging the town. Charles IV used it as his summer palace. In a way, I am glad I am splitting up my eastern European journey with a trip to Turkey and Greece, because after only a few weeks, and many cities and towns with castles, you almost become blase about them. You have to remind yourself that indeed this monster of a building has been here for over 600 years, and indeed the older buildings in your hometown were constructed some time last century (five and a half years ago). But after a while you almost feel as if you are taking happy snaps of just another castle as if you've seen them every day of your life. Still its an impressive little town, and they do make a fine three dollar Goulash.
Simon, Jenny and I were staying in the same hostel. We named it "The Ghetto".
After paying they told us we were in another building, around the corner, through a courtyard, up the stairs... The courtyard should have come complete with heroin injection kit, as it looked seedy, dark, and the perfect place to overdose. To reach the room you had to firstly unlock one door, then go up two flights of stares, then open a metal grate, then up two more flights, through another door, down an outside corridor, through another door, to find the locked door of your shared room. From my vantage point the security actually had a reverse affect - the more doors and locks, the more dangerous it seemed.
It was a strange setup. There was a kitchen, but it was hardly gourmet. There was a fridge, but it was permanently locked and none of the staff could explain why. Its that Eastern European ´I don't really care and aren't going to try to help you´ thing.... The car number plate slogan for the Czech Republic should read ´Czech Republic - No One Is Accountable´. There was a microwave, but no stove.
And then there are those you end up sharing a room with. Some aren't the best. This time, it was "Cheesy Feet Guy". He was an overweight older Norwegian, who liked to take his morning walk to the toilet in t-shirt and bikini underwear. But that wasn't my major issue with him. His feet made the room smell like tasty cheese corn chips that were well beyond their use-by date.
Hence the three of us (sans Cheesy Feet Guy) hauled ass around the corner to a much finer establishment, and then headed to the train station for a day trip to Kutna Hora.
The apparent major tourist attraction in Kutna Hora is the Kostnice - The Bone Church. It was hyped as one of the seven bone wonders of the world, or so it seemed. After a quick coffee next door (which was like dishwater, except on occasions dishwater can accidentally include flavouring) we wandered in.
It is an eerie place. The story is that in the 13th century, the Black Plague struck the region, killing tens of thousands. With a lack of burial space in the church grounds, one monk thought it a great idea to build all of the church decorations in bones of the deceased. He didn't finish the job, which in hindsight isnt surprising, as its kind of stooopid really. What is even crazier is that a 19th century artist decided to finish the job, around 600 years later. The human bone chandelier is the highlight. This is as good as it gets in Kutna Hora.
The walk into the town from the Kostnice is one of the most uninspiring journeys on foot that you can take in the Czech Republic. Soviet era commission flats are the norm, wonderful shades of beige and grey. It is a dreary little Bohemian town.
By the time we reached the town square, the clouds were brewing ominously. Soon enough it was ´thunderbolt and lightening, very very frightening.....´ ( I knew I'd get a Bohemian Rhapsody lyric in here somewhere). We were stuck in a coffee shop, at least drinking a decent brew while the downpour continued.
During some respite, the decision was made to go to Santa Barbara, the UNESCO listed heritage church rather than the Californian beach side city. Allegedly it is Kutna Hora´s other tourist attraction. The universal acclaim by us was, ´well its ok I guess´. The rain recommenced and we were miles from the station....
Up until our arrival back at the new hostel sometime later, the day had sucked. But inspiration followed - we had a kitchen and were to cook our own meal. Although it sounds ridiculous, I was hugely excited by the prospect and basically took over, cooking up a storm, with Simon assisting at the chopping block. It felt like a cooking show, with other residents looking on.
Here´s some I prepared earlier - Rigatoni with fresh tomatoes, red and yellow peppers, zucchini, mushrooms, marinated eggplant, olives, and sundried tomatoes. Oh it was good. Outside of quality Indian Bruschetta in Shimla, it was the first time I had actually cooked for 4 months and one week. I actually miss throwing the tea towel over the shoulder and cooking up a storm. Strange but true.
There was no need to include Parmesan in the dish, as it would have reminded me too much of our previous night´s abode, and the ´Cheesy Feet Guy´.
