Advertisement
Published: April 26th 2009
Edit Blog Post
“All’s well that ends well,” said my Grade 3 teacher, Mrs. Karr, after losing one of my workbooks, vehemently blaming me for having lost it, and then finding it again while cleaning her desk. As an eight year-old I wasn’t convinced that story had ended well, but I’ve taken to repeating this phrase often over the last few years - every time everything seems to be going wrong but ends up working out. I used it most recently upon arrival at Prague Airport, where I thought I was supposed to meet an old friend from my Japan days who seems to have disappeared over the last week.
As I stood in the small arrivals lobby, anxiously scanning passing faces for signs of recognition, a fear began to well up inside me that I had delivered myself into a very sketchy situation - an empty airport in a strange city, where I knew no one, had nowhere to sleep, didn’t speak the language, didn’t have a map, my list went on…
An hour later, with my fear threatening to overflow into tears, I took a few deep breaths and scrounged into the depths of my experience for what I needed
Praguian Delights
I was good, I didn't actually eat any. But I took great joy out of looking at them and fantasizing about what they must taste like... to do next. Without a phone number for Jana (I have apparently learned nothing after all my various displacements to strange new places) I had the girl at the info desk make one desperate page through the airport for anyone looking for a young, curly blonde with fancy French gifts before accepting that our meeting was cancelled. Remembering, a little late, that I had brought my laptop, I set about connecting to the expensive airport internet to try and find a hostel that would accept such a late arrival.
A few minutes later, armed with a reservation at Chili Hostel in downtown Prague, I ventured timidly out of the airport in search of an honest English-speaking taxi driver, only to be ushered quickly into a van waiting at the exit. Resigned to paying an astronomical amount to get to the city centre, I decided to trust the driver and was pleased when a German tour guide hopped in with me, on his way to his HQ in a swanky-sounding hotel. He pointed out the interesting sites as we rode by them and even offered to help some more if I made my way to his hotel kiosk sometime…
Once I checked into my hostel, I realized that I wouldn’t need to take him up on his offer. I walked into my dorm room to find two chatty New Zealanders getting ready for a night on the town. When they invited me out with them, I pushed back my fatigue, downed a glass of Long-Island Iced Tea and hit the streets with Hazel and Neroly in search of a great Praguian party.
In the end, all we found was a group of sleazy Italian boys (I felt like an old maid as we went around the circle announcing our ages…21, 20, 21, 22, I lied about mine…) who dragged us around town with promises to buy us drinks and insistences that afterwards we would “sleep” together - fully clothed, of course.
When our threesome finally proved to be a fruitless pursuit, the Italians bailed and left us to search on our own for a decent place to drink and dance. By the time 3am rolled around we were still roaming the quiet streets of the Old Town trying to figure out where everyone had gone, but running out of energy to dance even if we should find
a good club.
So we headed back to the hostel and crashed out, disappointed about our lack of dancing, but mildly amused by the diversion created by the Italians. Though I secretly rolled my eyes at the naivety of my two young friends for following the Italians around in the first place, I smiled at having had an excuse to act five years younger - and strengthened my resolve to be a more “responsible” tourist the next day.
Since I don’t travel with an alarm clock (I know…I’ve really learned nothing over the course of my travels), I didn’t take the responsibility to the point of getting up early, but once I was up I did my best to see EVERYTHING. Starting at the hostel, I wandered back to the Old Town to admire the baroque architecture that had been hiding in the shadows of bright flashing lights the night before. Through the Old Town and across a bridge, lured by a green, flowering hill, I climbed atop the Prague Metronom to admire my first panoramic view of the banks and bridges on the Vltava River.
From the Metronom I followed a scenic hillside trail in the
direction of the castle, or rather St. Vitus Cathedral, whose heaven-reaching spires dominate the skyline. Once there I joined the herd of tourists in admiration of the vivid stained glass windows and opulent pulpits and statues. Back across the bridge, I fell for the first of many offers for a discounted ticket to some classical performance at one of the various churches and concert halls in the city. I was lucky that my first offer was the best - the pristing-sounding Prague Echo Ensemble performing “The Greatest Hits” at the Rudolfinum (the “second most significant Neo-Renaissance building after the National Theatre in Prague,” according to their leaflet) and came back to the hostel to get gussied up for an evening out with myself.
Back at the theatre for a 7pm performance, I experienced ecstasy as the enthusiastic six-member string ensemble filled the hall and its audience with soul-gripping melodies, warming us up with Mozart’s “A Little Night Music” and drawing chuckles with Strauss’ fun and plucky “Pizzicato Polka.” After a unanimously demanded encore, the audience filed out into the sunset and I strolled across Charles Bridge, stopping many a time for photo ops and to listen to the various,
talented musicians playing their hearts out over the river. I have to say, Prague is the most musically inspiring city I have ever visited.
Once across, I decided to continue on another upward climb toward the castle, which seemed to promise some beautiful night-light views. Though the panorama wasn’t as nice as I expected, I soon found myself alone on a network of eerily empty roads, with nothing but gas-lamps and pot-lit cathedrals to guide me, and no sound except for the occasional rowdy cheer from secret bars behind closed doors. I walked until I started to spook myself out with unfounded fears of encountering a Jack-the-Ripper-like character.
Then I headed back to my hostel, taking in the ever-changing life along the river banks, which had gone from day-time tourists to evening strollers to hard-core clubbers in the course of the last 12 hours. Up early, but getting a late start so I can finish this entry, I’m hoping to start all over again today with more park-walks, a little gulash for lunch (have to try the local specialties!) and maybe even another concert this evening. I have to take advantage of how much I’m enjoying all this
culture - it’s a new phenomenon for me, and who knows how long it will last!
Advertisement
Tot: 0.147s; Tpl: 0.019s; cc: 14; qc: 45; dbt: 0.0984s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 2;
; mem: 1.2mb
KellyHyde
non-member comment
Nice photos!
Hi Emilie: I loved the photos - looks so beautiful - thanks so much for sending this to me - I really appreciate it! Take care and please contact me when you're back! Kelly