Come with me to the Golden City
Location: Prague, the Czech Republic
City Wall Status: Violated
We've all heard stories about traveling to Prague. The Golden City, Queen of Music. The Paris of the East. Setting of "XXX," starring Vin Diesel. This place has a lot to live up to.
So far it's doing a pretty damn good job.
Prague is to cities what New Zealand is to countryside; it's virtually impossible to look around you without seeing something that deserves to be on a postcard. As soon as you think you've found the most picturesque view of the city, quaint fishermen on the river overlooked by a magnificent cathedral, homegrown jazz band faintly playing on the bustling Charles Bridge just at the edge of your vision, red tiled roofs climbing above white stone walls to halo the old castle walls, shining in the sun... then you turn the corner and find something even better. It's enough to make your head spin.
What's more, Prague is not only pretty, it knows it's pretty, like the head cheerleader in a bad teen movie so convinced that she deserves all the adoration thrown at her. On one hand that's a very good thing. After all, embracing the arts often leads to exponentially greater mastery of those same arts. On the other hand, it makes the city a little bitchy about how great it is. It's so vain, it almost certainly thinks this song is about it.
October 19
Up early because I've got a 12:27 train to Prague. I head out for a bit to poke around Krakow's Jewish quarter. It's much like the rest of the city, which is to say very beautiful, dotted with synagogues instead of churches, and littered with parks and tiny little mom-and-pop restaurants. One notable inclusion is are the tiny shrivled only ladies that one can occasionally find sitting on street corners, gummily sucking their lower lips as they gaze hopefully at passing traffic. Quite lovely, but it's time to move on.
The trip from Krakow to Prague is long, eight hours by train, including two changes of train. Changing trains in these countries is friggin' scary. Scenario: It get off the train in Katowice (which, by the way, is far from labeled properly). I have 20 minutes to get to my new platform to catch my connection to Ostrava. Plenty of time. Checking the schedules, I find that there are no trains to Ostrava. There is a train to Vienna at the same time (it takes me five minutes to figure out that "Wien" is the Polish word for "Vienna"), and after checking at the information desk, I find out that my train leaves from the same platform, so I'm guessing that Vienna is just the final destination for my train, while I'm supposed to jump off at Ostrava (none of which is noted on my ticked, mind you). When it comes time for the train to come, it's not there. Oh, other trains are coming and going from the same platform, and I launch into full-out Tasmanian Devil mode trying to figure out if any of those are my train and are improperly labeled. The oh-so-helpful conductors wandering the platform seem to have a universal policy of pointing where I should go and shouting "No!" Thankfully, a nice German man sees my plight and, after a brief exchange of information, assures me that he is on the same train and it is simply late. Mind you, that was one out of my three connections.
I did have a pleasant trip from Katawice to Ostrava, though, sitting in the compartment with an elderly couple from Idaho. Yeah, I didn't know people from Idaho traveled, either. For some reason they asked if I was "LDS," their way of saying "Mormon." Do I come across as Mormon? Maybe I'm not cursing and taking the Lord's name in vain enough.
Finally arriving in Prague on the tail end of a rather exhausting train journey, I metro and hike from the train station to a recommended hostel, only to find that it is full that night. Note to self: book ahead. They direct me to another youth hostel a scant 200 meters away, which I hump over to wearily. This place is a complete dump, but it has beds, which is really all I want at the moment. Grab a very cheap wrap at a falafel place next door and hit the sack.
October 20
In the morning I'm up and head to another, hopefully better hostel. It is, indeed, better. And cheaper. Rock on. Check in, drop my stuff off, and I'm off to see the city.
It's a beautiful, sunny day, perfect for walking around. I make my way west, much like early pioneers would have done, checking out the town square, the Tyn Church, the Vltava River, Charles Bridge, and Prague Castle in one long sequence. I did this on foot, toting my day pack, working through throngs of other tourists. There were no warp whistles involved, nor did I sport a racoon tail and ears. This was old school urban hiking.
Charles Bridge, the main pedestrian river crossing and one of 11 bridges spanning the river, is a smorgasbord of culture, a sort of miniature Prague in and of itself, condensed to fit on this slender stone span. The whole thing is lined with dozens of statues dating back to before the invention of hair, or some such, all of the same sooty black stone. Portrait artists, local craftspeople, and musicians crowd in cheek by jowl, each trying to throw little bits of traditional Czech materiel at you like so many cultural tomahawks. It is excellent, even if I was unaware that "traditional Czech" anything included jazz music.
The castle is on a hill. A big hill. A big, steep hill. The only way to get up there (without detouring around half the west bank) is via the Old Castle Stairs, a bit of architecture that reminds me of the Buddist temple at the beginning of "Ace Ventura II." There are a lot of stairs. Of course, being the long-legged, egomaniacal jackass that I am, I was determined to take them two at a time the entire way. Upon reaching the top, I was tired. Nigh collapsing, one might even say. Fortunately, the view of the rest of the city from the top of the stairs is nothing short of spectacular, and well-worth a few minutes of breathless wonderment.
Prague Castle itself was a bit of a letdown. It is not so much a castle as it is a walled church. To be fair, the cathedral itself is mighty, featuring all the carving and gilding you could ever want, suspended under a vaulted ceiling to make Kurt Wagner weap furry little blue tears of joy. Of particular note is the stained glass, which is in sufficient quantity and garish color to resemble a Pokemon's feared power attack.
Side note: at the entrance to the Castle are two Czech soldiers standing guard, the kind that can't move or talk or smile while standing at rigid attention. People got pictures with them, so I figured I should as well. Of course I had to give the guy the bird during the picture. Otherwise it just wouldn't have been right.
The history buff in me did get a little Christmas-in-October: the castle is the site of the famed Defenestration of Prague, the funniest war-starting event ever, and I got to stand on the exact spot the poor saps landed on, saved from death by the legendary Prague Castle Manure Pile. I also flipped off the site for good measure. Rock and roll.
The History of Prague Castle tour I went on wasn't worth the time or the money, and I exacted vengeance by given the finger to the St. Wenceslas Crown. Charge me 20 Krona for a stupid walking tour, will ya?...
Leaving the Castle, I continued west to find an Indonesian resaurant that had been recommended to me, where I obtained a delicious and reasonably priced pork steak with cheese and mushrooms. Suitably fueled up, we continue.
The south-west part of the city is dominated by an enormous green space, which I hesitate to call 'park' or 'forest' because it is both and neither. There are also elements of orchard mixed in. It is a very pretty place to wander around. Part of it is bordered by remains of the old city wall, called The Hunger Wall, and I did get a little Daring Commando thrill by scrambling up a steep embankment at one point to get to the wall, then squeezing myself through a tiny viewport in the wall to gain access to what I believed to be a forbidden orchard. It may well have been that, at least at the part I so stealthily entered. There was an excellent view of the city through a gap in the trees, greenery framing a distant view of the Castle.
By this time I had been walking for about 5 hours and I was starting to get tired, so I decided to head back to the hostel for some well-earned rest, which I achieved after another hour and a half of walking. Dinner came via frozen pizza gobbled down in the hostel, and my aching body took to bed early.
Progress Thus Far:
Countries Visited: 4
Stupid Tourist Moments: 32
Monuments Flipped Off: 18
Free Food Ganked: 3
Free Booze Ganked: 12
i don't know, but I've been told
you never slow down, you never grow old.
-Tom Petty
City Wall Status: Violated
We've all heard stories about traveling to Prague. The Golden City, Queen of Music. The Paris of the East. Setting of "XXX," starring Vin Diesel. This place has a lot to live up to.
So far it's doing a pretty damn good job.
Prague is to cities what New Zealand is to countryside; it's virtually impossible to look around you without seeing something that deserves to be on a postcard. As soon as you think you've found the most picturesque view of the city, quaint fishermen on the river overlooked by a magnificent cathedral, homegrown jazz band faintly playing on the bustling Charles Bridge just at the edge of your vision, red tiled roofs climbing above white stone walls to halo the old castle walls, shining in the sun... then you turn the corner and find something even better. It's enough to make your head spin.What's more, Prague is not only pretty, it knows it's pretty, like the head cheerleader in a bad teen movie so convinced that she deserves all the adoration thrown at her. On one hand that's a very good thing. After all, embracing the arts often leads to exponentially greater mastery of those same arts. On the other hand, it makes the city a little bitchy about how great it is. It's so vain, it almost certainly thinks this song is about it.
October 19
Up early because I've got a 12:27 train to Prague. I head out for a bit to poke around Krakow's Jewish quarter. It's much like the rest of the city, which is to say very beautiful, dotted with synagogues instead of churches, and littered with parks and tiny little mom-and-pop restaurants. One notable inclusion is are the tiny shrivled only ladies that one can occasionally find sitting on street corners, gummily sucking their lower lips as they gaze hopefully at passing traffic. Quite lovely, but it's time to move on.
The trip from Krakow to Prague is long, eight hours by train, including two changes of train. Changing trains in these countries is friggin' scary. Scenario: It get off the train in Katowice (which, by the way, is far from labeled properly). I have 20 minutes to get to my new platform to catch my connection to Ostrava. Plenty of time. Checking the schedules, I find that there are no trains to Ostrava. There is a train to Vienna at the same time (it takes me five minutes to figure out that "Wien" is the Polish word for "Vienna"), and after checking at the information desk, I find out that my train leaves from the same platform, so I'm guessing that Vienna is just the final destination for my train, while I'm supposed to jump off at Ostrava (none of which is noted on my ticked, mind you). When it comes time for the train to come, it's not there. Oh, other trains are coming and going from the same platform, and I launch into full-out Tasmanian Devil mode trying to figure out if any of those are my train and are improperly labeled. The oh-so-helpful conductors wandering the platform seem to have a universal policy of pointing where I should go and shouting "No!" Thankfully, a nice German man sees my plight and, after a brief exchange of information, assures me that he is on the same train and it is simply late. Mind you, that was one out of my three connections.
I did have a pleasant trip from Katawice to Ostrava, though, sitting in the compartment with an elderly couple from Idaho. Yeah, I didn't know people from Idaho traveled, either. For some reason they asked if I was "LDS," their way of saying "Mormon." Do I come across as Mormon? Maybe I'm not cursing and taking the Lord's name in vain enough.
Finally arriving in Prague on the tail end of a rather exhausting train journey, I metro and hike from the train station to a recommended hostel, only to find that it is full that night. Note to self: book ahead. They direct me to another youth hostel a scant 200 meters away, which I hump over to wearily. This place is a complete dump, but it has beds, which is really all I want at the moment. Grab a very cheap wrap at a falafel place next door and hit the sack.
October 20
In the morning I'm up and head to another, hopefully better hostel. It is, indeed, better. And cheaper. Rock on. Check in, drop my stuff off, and I'm off to see the city.
It's a beautiful, sunny day, perfect for walking around. I make my way west, much like early pioneers would have done, checking out the town square, the Tyn Church, the Vltava River, Charles Bridge, and Prague Castle in one long sequence. I did this on foot, toting my day pack, working through throngs of other tourists. There were no warp whistles involved, nor did I sport a racoon tail and ears. This was old school urban hiking.
Charles Bridge, the main pedestrian river crossing and one of 11 bridges spanning the river, is a smorgasbord of culture, a sort of miniature Prague in and of itself, condensed to fit on this slender stone span. The whole thing is lined with dozens of statues dating back to before the invention of hair, or some such, all of the same sooty black stone. Portrait artists, local craftspeople, and musicians crowd in cheek by jowl, each trying to throw little bits of traditional Czech materiel at you like so many cultural tomahawks. It is excellent, even if I was unaware that "traditional Czech" anything included jazz music.
The castle is on a hill. A big hill. A big, steep hill. The only way to get up there (without detouring around half the west bank) is via the Old Castle Stairs, a bit of architecture that reminds me of the Buddist temple at the beginning of "Ace Ventura II." There are a lot of stairs. Of course, being the long-legged, egomaniacal jackass that I am, I was determined to take them two at a time the entire way. Upon reaching the top, I was tired. Nigh collapsing, one might even say. Fortunately, the view of the rest of the city from the top of the stairs is nothing short of spectacular, and well-worth a few minutes of breathless wonderment.
Prague Castle itself was a bit of a letdown. It is not so much a castle as it is a walled church. To be fair, the cathedral itself is mighty, featuring all the carving and gilding you could ever want, suspended under a vaulted ceiling to make Kurt Wagner weap furry little blue tears of joy. Of particular note is the stained glass, which is in sufficient quantity and garish color to resemble a Pokemon's feared power attack.
Side note: at the entrance to the Castle are two Czech soldiers standing guard, the kind that can't move or talk or smile while standing at rigid attention. People got pictures with them, so I figured I should as well. Of course I had to give the guy the bird during the picture. Otherwise it just wouldn't have been right.The history buff in me did get a little Christmas-in-October: the castle is the site of the famed Defenestration of Prague, the funniest war-starting event ever, and I got to stand on the exact spot the poor saps landed on, saved from death by the legendary Prague Castle Manure Pile. I also flipped off the site for good measure. Rock and roll.
The History of Prague Castle tour I went on wasn't worth the time or the money, and I exacted vengeance by given the finger to the St. Wenceslas Crown. Charge me 20 Krona for a stupid walking tour, will ya?...
Leaving the Castle, I continued west to find an Indonesian resaurant that had been recommended to me, where I obtained a delicious and reasonably priced pork steak with cheese and mushrooms. Suitably fueled up, we continue.
The south-west part of the city is dominated by an enormous green space, which I hesitate to call 'park' or 'forest' because it is both and neither. There are also elements of orchard mixed in. It is a very pretty place to wander around. Part of it is bordered by remains of the old city wall, called The Hunger Wall, and I did get a little Daring Commando thrill by scrambling up a steep embankment at one point to get to the wall, then squeezing myself through a tiny viewport in the wall to gain access to what I believed to be a forbidden orchard. It may well have been that, at least at the part I so stealthily entered. There was an excellent view of the city through a gap in the trees, greenery framing a distant view of the Castle.
By this time I had been walking for about 5 hours and I was starting to get tired, so I decided to head back to the hostel for some well-earned rest, which I achieved after another hour and a half of walking. Dinner came via frozen pizza gobbled down in the hostel, and my aching body took to bed early.
Progress Thus Far:
Countries Visited: 4
Stupid Tourist Moments: 32
Monuments Flipped Off: 18
Free Food Ganked: 3
Free Booze Ganked: 12
i don't know, but I've been told
you never slow down, you never grow old.
-Tom Petty
posted by Will Jones at 2:25 AM
1 Comments:
Dude, "I cut you so bad" was my favorite post so far, and the bit about the weapons? I had to wipe my screen off after spitting on it during a particular outburst of guffawing. I had to look around and make sure no one saw me.
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