Prague

The train ride was an enjoyable one, to be sure. I, however, had never bothered to book a hostel in Prague, so when the train arrived in the station, I was more or less stranded.

I did have the presence of mind to ask around of the people I was talking with on the train to see who was staying where. Gavin had booked a room at the Mosaic House, a place that I would discover, upon arrival, is run by the St. Christopher’s Inn franchise, as with the hostel in which Judson and I stayed back in Berlin. Caroline had also mentioned that a friend of hers stayed there, and found it to be perfectly agreeable. So I hitched myself onto Gavin and went with him to the hostel – a multi-tram and bus ride away from the Praha train station.

Gavin and I arrived at the Mosaic House in the late afternoon on July 17. It was fully booked. Actually, not only was my attempt at a reservation turned away, so was Gavin’s, as he had apparently booked his reservation for the wrong dates. We stayed for a beer in the bar area while we looked for another hostel. Having come this far, though, we were not about to trek across town to look for a new place. We booked two spots at Chili Hostel down the street, a place with a less-than-stellar rating on Hostelworld.com, but with a great proximity to our timely predicament.

For some reason unbeknownst to us, the reception at Chili had closed down for about an hour and a bit (they said it was to count up the days earnings, but having just worked in a hostel for a while, I can tell you that that does not require reception to shut down), so we dropped our bags off in the luggage room (“Luggage room is shielded by kamera,” so we know it’s safe) and went to dinner.

 ***

Many months ago, while Judson and I were in January, we had settled on going to Prague for a weekend. The idea never panned out, because train tickets were just too expensive, and Warsaw was much cheaper. But before going to the train station, I had been sure to email two high-school friends who were sure to know Prague better than I – Eric and Caroline. Eric had spent last summer in Prague on a study program, and Caroline, who also attends Washington University in St. Louis with me, spent the Fall semester in Prague. So I asked them for advice on where to go, what to see, what to eat, and where to drink.

Eric, like the fratstar that he is, came back with a Google Map he had made for himself of his favorite places. This consisted of many bars, jazz clubs, casinos, and a food joint or two. It was a very detailed outline of where and when to party.

Caroline, being the logical one, detailed many places to see. Tourist sites, some more known than others, but all very interesting, would occupy my days. She also gave me a few places to eat, but not many (though her suggestions were top notch!).

On my last day in Prague I would remember to email my sophomore-year roommate Alex, who spent this past Spring semester in Prague. He, as an extreme foodie, would fill in the gaps, food-wise, and would guide me a lovely last supper before I headed to London.

Prague is not a big city, and a little pocket map was detailed enough to get us everywhere in Praha 1 (the city center, where all the old, interesting, and delicious stuff is), all of which is in walking distance from any other point in Praha 1. We were on the southern side of the city center, so in a good launching point for the rest of the city.

***

Gavin and I went for our first meal at a place called Jiná Krajina, on Rezniská. Caroline had recommended it, as it was a favorite of hers while she lived on that street last Fall. I had some sort of salmon-based spread for an appetizer, with a steak and pasta and cheese combination for the main course. It was delectable.

The two of us returned to the hostel after dinner, checked in to room 43 (a four floor walk-up), showered and donned clean clothes for once, before heading out for a short bar crawl, using the places suggested by Eric as a guide.

Our first stop was U Sudu. We arrived with a Kiwi we had picked up at the hostel named Jono. Jono was a nice enough guy, though a little more mellow than most New Zealanders I’ve met.

At U Sudu, a student hangout near where we had dinner, I was made to try the Master, an incredibly dark beer Eric recommended highly, which apparently could not really be found anywhere else in the city. I don’t usually like dark beers, but this beer was almost sweet, it was so good. I might even put it amongst my favorites, up there with Fusion in Mongolia and Efes (for nostalgic reasons) in Turkey.

From U Sudu, we attempted to get into Hooters across the street, but they had closed. Instead, the three of us went to a bar just around from Eric’s home that Summer (Jerome House). The place was called Groove, though it may have been something different in Eric’s time, as his map called it something else.

We sat at the bar for a while, and before long Jono had asked me a dangerous question. What do I think of Obamacare?

I tried to explain to him in the most polite of ways how and why I didn’t agree with it, on economic, personal, and realistic grounds. I’ve had a lot of arguments about politics, especially American politics, with foreigners, but this was the first time in my life one has actually just walked out on me. Jono, at one point, said something along the lines of “Fuck it,” paid for his drink and left. This made things a tad weird between Gavin and I, as Gavin was very much in liberal agreement with Jono but had the decency to let me speak my mind and listen, and stay. It was awkward.

Gavin and I stayed out a little while longer before heading back. I was in bed by 3am.

I woke up at 8:30 on the morning of July 18, the light pouring in from the windows. Gavin and I went across the street to The Globe for breakfast around 9:45, a bookstore and café that was situated across the street from my hostel and recommended coincidentally by Caroline as well. She insisted that the mac n cheese was “real American” mac n cheese. I had to find out for myself, but they weren’t serving lunch yet, so I settled on an omelet. It was a damn good omelet, but an omelet nonetheless. Oh, and we had to try some of their famous cheesecake afterwards, which was a terribly delicious choice.

At 10:30 Gavin and I found ourselves back in the hostel, waiting to begin the Free walking tour. Justin, our guide for the day, picked us up around then and walked with us towards the main square. I forgot my phone at the hostel, so I had to run back before it was stolen. I caught up with the tour group when they were halfway to the square, though, so no loss there.

Justin is an American from San Francisco who met his Czech wife on a cruise ship a few years back, married her, and moved to Prague. His back story was interesting enough, but to be honest, I was just happy to have a tour guide that spoke English fluently.

At 11:00 sharp the tour began, with the “show” at the Astronomical Clock. It was less than impressive, but large crowds still gathered to watch it. A couple of figures come out of the clock like cuckoo birds, the bells ring a little, some mechanical figurines move about next to the clock, and a guy trumpets from the top of the tower afterwards (an old traditional Czech practice, begun in something like 2008).

The clock itself was interesting, however. According to our tour guide, the clock accurately predicts many things, from seasons to the time to the day and month of the year, to of course astronomical things, thus the name. And apparently there is only one like it in the world, as the man who built apparently had his eyes gouged out by the king so he could never repeat the feat anywhere else. Then he supposedly killed himself by throwing himself into the clocks inner workings. Indeed, the clock did stop working for about 100 years, but it’s probably coincidence.

Across the square from the Astronomical Clock is the Tyn cathedral, with both Male and Female towers. One of the towers is a little taller, larger, and apparently more manly, the other is a little shorter, and smaller.

In the center of the main square is a statue of John Huss (John the Goose). It is after him that we get the term Hussite, as well as the phrase “The Goose is Cooked,” since he was burned alive. It is said by some (probably mostly Czechs) that Huss invented Protestantism, as he was the first to publicly question the Catholic church and gain a following in doing so. Hussites still exist today, though not in large numbers.

We walked for a  while, passing Kafka’s birthplace along the way, a site so unremarkable I missed it while we walked.

Our next stop was the National Theater by the river. In Hitler’s vision of a 1,000 year reich, he wanted Berlin to be the political capital, of course, but apparently he thought Prague should be the cultural capital. As such, the National Theater was very important to him. He did learn, however, that one of the composers enshrined in stone on the roof of the building was Jewish (gasp!). It was Mendelssohn, who was raised as a Christian, but who’s grandfather (maybe father, I forget), Abraham Mendelssohn, was Jewish. Hitler ordered the removal of the statue. The workers, however, had no idea what Mendelssohn looked like, so they removed the statue with the biggest nose. In doing so, they inadvertently took down Wagner, Hitler’s favorite composer. Mendelssohn still stands to this day.

Following this little tidbit, we headed back away from the river through Josefo, the old Jewish Quarter. In here we passed three synagogues. The first was Pinkasova Synagogue, which we heard little about. The second, the Old New Synagogue, was built in either 1270 or 1290, and is home to the Prague Gollum, a legendary creature that apparently lives in the attic of the temple.

The third synagogue we saw was the Spanish Synagogue, built in a Sephardic style. It looks more like a mosque than a synagogue, and if it weren’t for the ten commandments above the center windows, I would have thought it was a mosque.

We also passed the Jewish Cemetery, a depressing place. Apparently Jews used to be forced to bury their dead within the Jewish Quarter. But they didn’t have much room, so they just started burying the dead on top of other dead, meaning many hundreds of people are buried in an area the size of a medium-sized house. Grave stones litter the area.

Next to the Spanish Synagogue we found a statue to Kafka, of a un-occupied but fully filled suit supporting a man sitting on its shoulders. It was weird, but so is Kafka.

We stopped over at the Bake Shop for a quick break. Caroline had mentioned this place as well. I only got a chocolate croissant, but it was quite good.

Our next stop was St. James’ church. This is apparently the most haunted church in Europe, as there are over 100 ghost stories associated with it. One of them consists of a thief who came to rob something from the church. While reaching up to take something, a statue of the Virgin Mary came alive and grabbed his arm. The thief stayed there all night until the priests arrived in the morning to find him clutched by the statue. After much debate, someone suggested they just cut the arm off. The thief happily agreed, until he realized they meant his arm, not the stone Virgin Mary’s. His arm is still hanging from the scaffolding as a warning to other thieves. It was incredible how many people gazed inside just to take pictures of the arm, not of the beautifully adorned church it is in.

We found ourselves after this in New Town, which is still pretty old. The Powder Tower, for example, was built in 1475. The area was recently used for a filming of xXx, that terrible Vin Diesel action film a few years back, when a sniper takes a shot at Vin Diesel from a nearby rooftop.

Near the New Town is Wenceslas Square, a long narrow square that was once home to the first major student protest (hundreds of thousands of students shaking their keys in the air, as if to say ‘let us out of these cells’) that sparked the downfall of the Iron Curtain and, eventually, the Soviet Union. Today, it sees tourists during the day, and gamblers, prostitutes, their Johns, and druggies at night.

Just off Wenceslas we saw something that made me wish I was staying an extra day. Národní Divadlo, A.K.A. Mozart Theater, is the last remaining building on the planet that Mozart himself performed in. Don Giovanni debuted there. And, sure enough, a few hours after my flight is scheduled to depart the next day, Don Giovanni would be performed there. That sucked.

From here, the tour ended. Justin took us back to the main square and Gavin and I, exhausted, took a quick rest. It was 1:35ish.

After getting off our feet for a bit, we walked back towards the river. A little after 2 we stopped into a random restaurant for lunch. I got an underwhelming Cordon Bleu, but it was the only restaurant we could find in that area, so we took it.

After lunch Gavin and I crossed the river and walked into Letná Park. Up several flights of stairs to the base of the world’s biggest Metronome, built to commemorate the ‘time lost to Communism.’ It stands where the world’s largest statue of Stalin used to stand, watching over the city ominously. Now it is a reminder of how terrible things can be, and how to not end up there again.

We walked through Letná Park towards the Castle. It is a beautiful park, but the castle is a bit more impressive. Besides being the site of several famous periods of defenestration, the castle boasts an impressive cathedral, imposing walls, and a fantastic view.

We crossed a small ravine to get to the castle. Entrance was free.

The doors to the cathedral caught my eye. They were essentially a comic strip, depicting the steps to build the cathedral itself. It starts with an architect, shows him presenting the idea to a nobleman, building the foundation, building the cathedral, and then praying in it. It’s quite a series. Inside the cathedral were impressive and unbelievably ornate stained glass windows, large vaulted ceilings, you know, the works.

After trying some Smurf flavored ice cream (the scoops were too small), Gavin and I wandered passed Occupy Prague, a tent with a flag next to it, and then to Charles Bridge, of international fame for the statues that line it.

First, we stopped at the Lennon Wall, a place Caroline told me about, where people are encouraged to graffiti Beatles lyrics as statements for peace, or something like that. Caroline made it clear to not be a dick and write some sort of fraternity message, or joke, or my name, but to put a real Beatles lyric. So I did, but putting “Imagine” is so cliché! So I wrote the following: “At night when you’re asleep, into your tent I’ll creep.” I swear, it’s a real lyric!

Charles Bridge is fascinating, but there’s one terribly controversial statue. It sits on the far end of the bridge from the castle, on the east bank of the river. It’s a statue of Jesus, complete with “INRI” above him. But, in a large circle around him, are the words:

קדוש קדוש קדוש יהוה צבאוח

So yea. There’s been a long controversy about putting some of the most sacred words of the Jewish faith around Jesus Christ on the cross. Personally, I chalk it up to free speech.

Gavin and I, feet aching, walked south along the river to see the Dancing House, a Frank Gehry design. We took some pictures of the, to put it lightly, unconventional building, walked into the lobby, decided not to spend an exorbitant sum on drinks on the roof, and walked back to the nearby Chili hostel, arriving around 5:30, after 7 hours on our feet.

Shortly after getting back, I was talking to Gavin in the lobby when I heard, “Marshall?”

I looked to my left, to find Julie, a friend from Istanbul (a Canadian exchange student at Boğaziçi) sitting on the couch there. I was a little in shock, to the point where I didn’t remember her name at first. But That quickly subsided, and I invited Julie to join me at the Globe again for some Mac n Cheese.

Julie had been traveling the last few weeks with her sister, Ellie. The three of us found ourselves in the courtyard behind the Globe. Julie and I caught up on life while the three of us attempted for a while to get our dinners. Somehow the topic of St. Louis came up, and it seems every other person in the courtyard was A) American, and B) Had some connection to St. Louis. It was weird. I don’t like being around so many non-locals. But the Mac n Cheese was amazing.

Around 9 I met Julie and Ellie again in the lobby of Chili Hostel, and we headed out on the town.

We started again at U Sudu, finding our way this time to the basement levels, which are a series of three or so caves. One of the rooms has games, the other rooms have only bars. I had more Master beer; can’t get enough.

Around 10 we went to Raduta Jazz Club, an Eric recommendation, and sat listening to a band play for a while. They were very good.

Around midnight the three of us found ourselves at another place Eric mentioned, which he called the Budvar Bar. I made Julie and Ellie order Budweiser (the Czech Budweiser), which they expected to hate as much as the American version. They did not.

It was an early night. We grabbed gyros on the way back, and by 1:15am I was asleep.

I woke up around 8:30am again. I bided my time for a while, waiting for Julie and Ellie to come downstairs to check out. They arrived 10:59, a minute before checkout.

The three of us headed to what Caroline had dubbed the Rembrandt Café, which sold some sort of delicious fruit pie of sorts, which was to die for. From the Rembrandt Café, we walked southwest to Angelato, an ice cream place that, not surprisingly since Caroline suggested it, did not disappoint.

The girls had to leave Prague around this time, so we went back to the hostel and got their bags. I waited with them until they left.

I then ditched the hostel again to go on a solo run at the Sex Museum and Torture Museum. No, these were not in the same building, nor were they affiliated with each other, but they could have been, and they should have been. They were essentially the same thing.

Granted, the sex museum did have some stuff that could pretty easily be considered pleasurable. But much of the displays – anti-masturbation belts, chastity belts, hand-crank vibrators, gags, a giant wheel to be strapped to, muzzles, anti-erection belts, etc. – seemed to be torture devices in and of themselves. There was an interesting display of codpieces and gentlemen’s pissing canes (so they didn’t have to disrobe while peeing, they could pee through the hollow cane), though.

The Museum of Medieval Torture Instruments was pretty gruesome as well, though more expectedly so. This displayed such gems as the Handsaw (for sawing a person in half while they were hung upside down), Staircase of Stretching (“if the paralyzed victim, with the shattered shoulders and dying, he had withstood without confessing, the court was forced to proclaim its innocence”), Thumbscrews (the crushing of a person’s knuckles or fingers), the Rack, Fallbrett (a forebear of the guillotine, though far blunter and more painful), the Pillory, the Double Head Crusher (a way to interrogate two people, the first one to talk gets to keep his head), The Virgin of Nuremberg (A.K.A. Iron Maiden), Chastity belts (yup), The Garrote (a screw pressed to the back of your neck, used as recently as 1975 in Spain), the Spanish Tickle Torture (a rake used to reduce a victim’s flesh to tatters and then to strip it from his bones anywhere on his body), and my favorite, the Wheel (limbs broken, body woven through the spokes of a wheel, wheel put outside city walls for you to slowly die and to warn would-be offenders).

Of course, I was pretty hungry after all of this and after getting back to the hostel, so I got the great idea of sending Alex an email about food. He came back uncharacteristically quickly, with some great ideas. The closest option, U Medvídkú, seemed like the best idea for dinner, as it was the closest and I didn’t have much time.

U Medvídkú turned out to be the same place as Budvar Bar, but there was a whole upstairs section with a brewery and restaurant. I made sure to get into the back room, because that’s where Alex said they served the good beer.

I walked in, and recognized two of the guests. It was Kevin and his friend (whose name I never really learned), from the train compartment, finishing up their meals. I sat with them for a bit and we chatted before they left. I took their table.

I decided to feast on some specialties. My stomach loved me for it initially, and I regretted the amount immensely in the end. At 6pm I got my food. Dumplings stuffed with meat. Lots of meat. I finished it in about 10 minutes. The next course was wild boar with roasted apple and cranberry. That was far more delicious and worth the stomach pains. As for beer, I got X33 and Oldgott beers (the former was 12% alcohol by volume, I did not taste any, the latter was 5.7%). I was back at the hostel by 7. It was a very quick meal. I didn’t have much time.

I called for a cab for 7:30 to get me to the airport. As I was loading into the cab, one of the receptionists ran out and reminded me that I left my phone charging behind the desk. I thanked him profusely, but that wouldn’t stop me from writing a terrible review on Hostelworld about the place (more on that at the end of this post).

The airport was easy to navigate, and I got through everything pretty quickly. We took off around 11:10pm on July 19, bound for London. It would be my last stop of a 7-month adventure.

And, since I can’t not make this embarrassingly easy and terribly cliché pun, Czech out my complaints about the hostel:

The hostel had bedbugs. Not in every room, but Julie and Ellie were definitely affected. While I was sitting in the lobby, I heard a lot of other complaints. Someone had peed in a room on the floor, and it wasn’t cleaned up, someone had defecated in the shower and, again, had not been cleaned up. Most shower drains were clogged, there was no toilet paper anywhere, the beds were creaky, the kitchen was an ungodly level of disgusting, the wifi was terrible and only worked in the lobby, there were extra charges for everything, including luggage storage, sheets, towels, etc. AND THEY HAD BEDBUGS. It was really pretty horrible. But I was only there for a couple nights, and just dealt with it. Besides, my bed was bedbug free.

Prague, besides that, was pretty awesome. I am glad, however, that I didn’t study abroad there (it was going to be Prague until I decided at the last minute to go to Istanbul); I would have gotten bored after 4 months—even after a couple weeks, probably. Or I could have gone to Istanbul as I did, and spend 4 months there without seeing half of what I could have while being challenged as a traveler. I made the right choice for me.