Czech It Out

Camera? Check.
Comfortable walking shoes? Check.
Passport? Che..wait, yeah--check.

All right. Let's go to Prague.

Patrick's grandmother came dashing out of the garage, serenading me in her native tongue, apparently instructing me to get something from her car, as all I picked up was "mein auto."

With my jacket in one hand and an apple in the other, I found myself powerless.

"Um, Paaatrick! Your Grandma is yelling at me, and I DON'T SPEAK GERMAN!"

After my translating friend talked it out with his grandmother, we left for the Czech Republic with our cameras, walking shoes, passports, and steering wheel lock. We took off in, naturally, the family Volkswagen.

"By the way," Patrick mentioned, "Ome wasn't yelling at you...that's just her. She wasn't mad."

Good. I feared I had angered the matriarch. “You did tell her I don't speak German, right?”

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure she ignored me."

Touché.

Hour and a half later, a pair of Aussies, a native German, and the American kid reached the border. As we pulled up to the booth, we joked about what the guards were going to think when such a diverse group of youths requested to enter the Czech Republic. Shortly thereafter, we were asked to drive six meters ahead and pull over behind a blue BMW.

After our passports each earned a stamp, we continued on our way. Apparently, a completed highway between Dresden and Prague provided a 2 1/2-hour drive. Unfortunately, completed could not describe the highway, as the Czechs had not yet finished their end. This required Patrick, along with anyone else headed to Prague on Easter Saturday, to detour through a small town along the Elbe River. On the bright side, with traffic at a standstill, Kath and I took some great pictures out the window. On the other side of the coin, our drive took closer to four hours. As we inched through the town we realized the number of cars was not so much the problem as was the men PAINTING A CROSSWALK ON THE STREET AT NOON.

Patrick: "Unbelievable."


Finally, we reached Prague (or in Czech: Praha). I looked around excitedly as my Swedish friend Tuve (who I actually met last semester when she studied at SDSU) had told me Prague is one of the most beautiful cities she had ever seen.

Along the outskirts of town my excitement dwindled and I started to wonder if Tuve had lied to me in some cruel, European joke. With buildings in disrepair and a train station in disarray, Prague first impressed me as less than stellar.

Patrick, with his innate sense of direction, and Zak, with his copy of Shoe String Guide to Europe, navigated us to the visitor information center where we snagged a map of Praha and made our way to the "old town."

"Man, Prague kind of suc..."

We turned a corner and SHAZAAM: PRAHA! We may as well have hopped in a Delorean with Michael J. Fox and gone back in time, as the contrast between the street from whence we had come and the street on which we were standing was worlds apart.

From the posters in the visitor center, we recognized the building in front of us as the Royal Orchestra Building, where composers like Mozart, Beethoven, and, Chopin had graced the stage. Continuing through a large archway, the grandeur of Prague continued to grow.

Royal Orchestra

The old town, dating back to 1231, housed an overflow of Easter tourists. My trio of friends and I made our way to the marketplace complete with cobblestone streets and shops on either side of the narrow streets.

With so many options and so much hunger in my stomach, I finally decided on a bratwurst. As I ate my delicious lunch (made even tastier by the exchange rate: 1 US dollar = 20 Czech Crowns. My bratwurst: 30 Crown), and the rest feasted on something called "Grandma's recipe.” We soaked in the Prahaian (I just made that up) atmosphere and listened to a group of street musicians sing "It's a Long Road to Tiporary."


After checking out the arts and crafts available from the market vendors, we wound our way through another narrow street surrounded by brightly colored, centuries-old buildings, until we came to the Vlatava River. Working our way through the masses (Praha claims a population of over 1 million, in addition to the thousands of tourists meandering the streets this day), we began crossing the famous Charles Bridge, which connects the Old Town with the "lesser town" (or, as I later looked up, the "Mala Strana"). On either side of this lengthy bridge we discovered musicians, artists, and statues depicting various religious events, erected by the Catholics between 1600 and 1800.

Charles Bridge

One specific statue is said to bring good luck to whoever touches the base. As we lined up for our chance at good luck, Patrick had to bring up how many people probably touch this statue everyday. Way to kill the mood, German.

Charles Bridge statue

After walking about Mala Strana for some time, we decided to take a rest and grab a pint for 22 Crown (remember 20 Crown = $1 USD).

Rejuvenated, our intercontinental sightseeing group headed toward the monastery. From the top of the hill, we fell in love with a beautiful view of the entire city, with Prague Castle to our left, the whole of the town in the distance, and the green, sloping grounds of the monastery right in front of us. After walking through the greenery and soaking in the sun, we decided it was time to check out the Prague Castle, via the 9th century.

Prague Castle

Monastery

The entire complex (the largest in Europe) is made up of a series of majestic structures. After making fun of a middle-aged American guy in awkwardly short shorts (sadly Patrick is right; you really can pick the Americans out of a crowd), as well as the guards who can't move or speak who are "guarding" the castle grounds, we decided to hop in line to enter the St. Vitus Cathedral. My watch read nearly half past five, and a security-looking man came to us hopeful tourists at the end of the line and said in a handful of languages, "Closed, come back tomorrow." So, being the considerate youth we are (wait, we just got done making fun of complete strangers...) we started to look for something else to do. Just as we looked over our shoulders, the entire line surged forward and a heap of people made it into the Cathedral at the last minute. Apparently the lesson here is ignore authority. Whatever.

St. Vitus Cathedral

Sauntering towards St. George's Basilica, I noticed a poster displaying flags from all over the world. A closer look revealed that one flag, the American flag, had been decorated with a huge X over the top. Patrick offered his condolences, and the Aussies just laughed. What could cause such a scandalous act against Old Glory? I can think of about a thousand motives for the unknown hooligan, but I get the most satisfaction out of blaming Toby Keith. And Bill O'Reilly.

Moving on.

We made our way back across another bridge toward our car but not before stopping at a pleasant outdoor restaurant. Wishing to take advantage one last time of the ridiculous exchange rate, we sat down and ordered up. Our laughing, merrymaking, and general tomfoolery were cut to a halt when we asked for the check and our waiter threw down the bill.

"1,137 Crown."

“Sir, can we split this four ways?”

"No. One table, one check. We have 200 guest here. One table. One check."

Right, first of all, I could see pretty clearly there were not 200 other people eating. Secondly, it took us longer to come up with 1137 Crown between the four of us, making change back and forth, than it would have just to pay for our own meals. What I'm getting at here, young people, for those of you going into hotel and restaurant management, is this: the customer is always right. Except in Prague. There the waiter stands awkwardly until you come up with the money. I mention this because it almost ended our day on a sour note, until we realized the entire exchange was hilarious, and it became a running joke for the rest of the trip.

Walking back to the ghetto to get our car, our feet worn and stomachs full, we were glad to see the Volkswagen all in one piece. Looking at the pictures, I still can't believe I traveled someplace so random as Praha, Czech Republic. Hopefully, one day, one of my students will wonder aloud what it's like in the Czech Republic, and I will be able to tell him or her. In all reality, though, I'll probably tell them whether they ask or not.

Up next...Storming the Castles!

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Note: The experiences are mine; however, I looked up some of the historical information (e.g., names and dates) at Prague Experience.