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Aussie versus Italy in Old Town Square
Entry 76 of 115 | show all | print this entry |
Saw off my Canadian brethren and sistren at the main Prague station today, with maximum respect and happiness that we'd managed to hook up for one final hurrah. Philly D and the Pamster headed back on home to Canadia, and Trish moved forward to Munich. Nevertheless, it still felt great to be in Prague, now alone, on my own, with every possibility at my feet and a wealth of freedom to go about my business as i saw fit. I tell you, its a bloody liberating feeling. Strolled back up to the hostel in the magic early afternoon Prague sun, past Wenceslas Square and the huge museum at the foot of the mall. In case you were wondering, Wenceslas Square is indeed named after the 'Good King' of the same surname, the bloke with looked upon the feast of Steven in that old Christmas Carol. 'Good King Wenceslas' used to be one of my favourite carols back in Grade 4, though i never really got what the good King was all about. Well, it turns out that Big W (wenceslas) was not only not a real King, but he wasn't even all that good either. A bit of a rogue monarch, Big W ruled the shop back in 1400 something, son of King Charles of Charles Bridge fame, and he used to regularly dress up as a commoner in order to purchase goods from town stores, and execute any merchant that ripped him off. He was also alleged to have urinated in the holy water at his own baptism. Quite a guy. Like so many of those wacky old school rulers, Big W eventually went out of favour with the populace, and transformed into an even more deranged madman in his later years.
Apologies for the highly inaccurate, less than desirable account of Czech history.
Spent a fair bit of time thinking about my next move today. I plan to stay in Prague for at least three fo four more nights, and will then head south to the medieval village of Cesky Krumlov, making the most of the cheap rates and magic Czech vibe. It seems to be the place to hang, and after moving around Europe like a man on a mission, stopping nowhere for longer than 3 or 4 nights, Prague and Cesky seem ideal destinations to chill, go easy on the fundage and pad the trip out accordingly. After updating the travel blog considerably, as my out of whack body clock and knackered brain left me unable to write anything coherent for the last 5 days, i trundled back down the hill to the old town square for the big game.
Australia versus Italy. It had come down to this, and i knew it would be a sensational match. I'd read of the socceroo hysteria back home, the thousands of people splayed around Fed Square for the Croatia match, and the support that everyone was giving the Aussie team back in Oz. I also witnessed the embarassing action shot of John Howard the goose dickhead leaping for joy from his delicate Kirribili lounge chair, decked out in green and gold tracksuit and white Aerosports, as 'Straya put through the equalising goal against Croatia. I shook my head with a depressed smirk at the notion that this man was still our Prime Minister, and his insistence that he be photographed in that god awful tracksuit at the detriment of our international image. The man must be stopped.
...Which brings me to defenestration.
Back in the day, through the many turbulent centuries of Czech history, Hussite mobs, amongst various other militant circles and religious asemblages, were big advocates of throwing members of political opposition to their grisly deaths from the windows of government buildings. I can't help but admire the conflict resolution here. If you don't get along with someone, throw 'em out the bloody window. Nice.
In light of this, i would forewarn John Howard that any further dessecration of our national colours through the donning of that reprehensible tracksuit may just lead to the recrudescence of conflict resolution though a lively regime of defenestration.
Anyway, before i get done for multiple counts of sedition and find myself escorted back on the next flight to Europe upon my arrival to Tullamarine, i ankled down to the Old Town Square and joined the army of yellow Aussies mingling together round the plaza, drinking pints of cheap pilsener and yelling on the socceroos to a hopeful victory.
'Straya matched everything the Italians had for pretty much the whole match, and the unimpressive Italian performance was duely noted by the multiple slangs of 'Vaffanculo' by the few Italian supporters in the crowd. We all know what happened next - that bloody penalty in the dying minutes that killed our chances of progressing on to the next round, when we'd come so far and so close. In a style that only Australians can pull off, the Old Town Square of Prague rang vociferously with the unmistakable chant of 'Bullshit' for the proceeding ten minutes. I walked home to the hostel a tad dejected...
Anyway, spent the arvo doing random stuff. Went for another run, 'gut billow' still on my mind, then strutted around town, along the Charles Bridge and just sat and watched the buskers as the sun came down over Prague Castle and the Vltava river underneath. Prague is a magical place any time, no less at night. After a cheap authentic meal of Asian food, i ambled back up through town, up the hill and back to Miss Sophies, calling it an early night, for an early start tomorrow morning.
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