Czechin' it out!
Trip Start
Apr 12, 2006
1
71
115
Trip End
Ongoing
Prague,
Czech Republic
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
I knew ever since then that i must one day check it out for myself.
With a ticket booked for the viciously early 6.43am train to Prague, i got up at 5 and threw down a hearty brekky with Erika and Rude, before wishing them farewell and immense thanks for their wonderful hospitality. Not recognising Munich Central Station, i nearly sat stationary on the Starnberg train for too long and missed the one Prague, before realising i needed to get off, sharing my place on the Prague carriage in a compartment with a gruff looking, beefy old slavic dude
absinth equals me brain no work
. Through Eastern German countryside, i was again reminded of my journey around Bad Holz with Ezza and Rude, and as the train made its way across the Czech border, i noticed the gradual change in landscape and vibe, as the train compartment filled up with random Czechs, quelling any fears i had that i'd jumped on the train to Leipzig by mistake.Six hours after departing Central Munich, i arrived at the ultra Eastern European-esque platforms of Prague Hvlani, the main station, and the meeting point for hooking up with my Canadian brother and sister buddies Pam and Phil, founding signatories of the 'Commonwealth of Drinking' formed some months back in Madrid. I looked forward to seeing them both again, two unbelievably awesome people to hang with, and i was wrapped that we were able to hook it up after all these weeks on our own European journies.
After failing to spot the Canucks, I lumbered around Prague station like a stunned mullet as archaic paging tones reminiscent of the old Eastern Bloc era filtered through overhead speakers around the terminal. About to walk outside and find the accomodation myself, i heard to unmistakable voice of a Canadian calling my name, brandishing a sign that read 'We are looking for a crazy Australian that we lost in Spain
Pam, Phil and me
. Have you seen.....Cam Hassard'. It seemed that they waited for me in the one exit that i didn't walk through. Apparently, as Pam and Phil stood afoot the exit steps, a number of people who clearly didn't understand English looked on at them both with expressions of pity, faces that assumed they were in dire straits, destitute and in need of booze shrapnel. With hugs and jubilation, a core constituency of the Commonwealth was once again reunited. I was particularly pleased to see that Phil, a willing participant in the infamously disastrous 'mullethawk' night back in Madrid, was still proudly sporting his mowhawk, continuing to menace small European children everywhere he went.Prague was hot as hell, and wearing jeans with a full pack, i was sweating like a pig through the gorgeous Prague streets and buildings. But this was it - i'd made it. I was in the magical land of beer once and for all! Everything was looking good. And once we arrived at the hostel accomodation, things got decidedly greater. Staying at a hip, ultra modern place called 'Miss Sophies', Pam had managed to book a full on apartment for a dirt cheap rate, a decked out, modern townhouse apartment with all the trimmings and a fantastic bathroom and kitchen. I was in heaven. Sunk a beer with Pam and Phil, met their friend Trish who was also backpacking around Europe, reeled off our respective travel tales since we'd parted ways back in April, and settled in to my fresh digs
The Germans and i
. Seriously, this place was unreal, potentially the finest place i'd stayed on this trip to date.We strolled down to the main town area and hit the local 'Tesco' for some cheap groceries, the equivalent of a Czech Safeway or Woolies. I couldn't believe how amazingly cheap everything was here, and knew instantly that i would be staying here for a pretty sizeable chunk of time. We purchased a crate of 500ml Czech Pilsener for little under 20 bucks Australian, and lugged all the goods back to the apartment. A little later, we'd just sat down to enjoy a pilsener, before discovering that the beer tasted like insipid piss. Something was terribly wrong. The crazy Czech language on the back label was all Czech to me, but the one glaring anomaly was staring me right in the face. We'd bought a crate of non-alcoholic beer.
Lugging the full crate all the way back to the Tesco, Phil and I tried to swap it for a full crate of real beer, but the checkout chick didn't want anything to do with the transaction. Cuting our losses, we bought another crate of pilsener for the same price, double checked that the alcohol content was of decent percentage. Outside, we dumped the refuse gear on a park bench and gestured the full crate of 0.5 percent booze to the bums at a nearby tree, who hailed us as heroes with open arms and yelps of praise. You should have seen the looks on their faces, as if all their Christmases had come at once. I wasn't sure if we were doing a good thing or a bad thing - non alcoholic beer is non alcoholic beer in anyones book and, fearing a backlash once they realised there was no balls to their brew, we waved them on, made off with the new full strength crate and moseyed back up the hill to the hostel. At least they'd be able to get a refund on the empties, and a fair few Czech Kronar on the plastic crate.
With a full stockpile of real booze, we knocked back cheap, tasty pilsener until late, before tucking into a bottle of green Absinth, possibly the nastiest, most potent bottle of turps i'd ever encountered. At 170 proof and 70 percent alcohol, we probably could have done with a crate of non-alcoholic beer to counterbalance the experience. The stuff tasted like a simmering fusion of nail polish remover, detergent and petrol, burning the arse out our gullets accordingly. We were a little jolly after this endeavour, and went out to hit the town, meeting up with a random Aussie from Sydney, who on his third and last legal attempt at changing his name, was finally stuck with the full name of 'Jimmy', no surname, nothing. And because you have to have at least something on your passport that indicates a surname, his was '-'. Anyway, Jimmy Dash was a bit of a character, and we strolled the happening, energetic streets of Prague looking for something to do, eventually walking down the main Wenceslas Square, tucking into a bulbous Czech sausage for only 1 buck, witnessing the overt prostituion typical of the Czech capital, and finally tucking into some fresh pints at a nearby pub.
Weary from my 5am start, my mind was knackered, though deeply satisfied that i'd made it to Prague. The legends were true, this place was unreal, and the more i thought about it, the more i knew i'd be here for a while. There was much to be excited about. It rained heavily and we got soaked big time on the walk back up the hill to Miss Sophies. I fell into slumber and dreampt about the possibilities.
