Praha was a Nada

When I was about fourteen years old, I bought this book called “The Travel Book.”  It was a Lonely Planet publication and it had two pages on every country, with big beautiful pictures, and poetic descriptions of every place (of the type I was trying to write for Germany), the necessary experiences one must have in each country, and other facts about the food and culture of the different places.

I loved the book, I flipped through every page and read every description and longed to go to each place and have every experience the book described.  I showed the book to all my friends and family and when I received comments from well traveled people (particularly my father, and a family friend) saying things such as “they chose that picture to represent Paris” and “that isn’t what I saw in Peru,” I glowered at them, sure that I (and my trusted lonely planet educators) understood what contributes to a country far better than they did.

(the happy traveler)

All that aside (and let me just say that I still love and look at that book frequently), I remember that one of the descriptions that struck me most was about the Czech Republic, specifically about Prague.  My book said that one of the necessary experiences to have in Prague was to walk across the Charles Bridge at dawn.  Well to my fourteen year old self, that sentence, coupled with a striking picture of said bridge, sounded like just about the most magical of experiences, and from that point in my life, I knew that I had to go to Prague.  Although the idea of walking over bridges as the sun rises has become slightly less magical in my mind over the past six years, I still happily added Prague to my list of places to visit as I was creating the itinerary for this trip.

(The magical Charles Bridge)

So, before I dive into what exactly Prague was, let me just set the scene.  Successfully completing my Eurail pass, I hopped aboard the train from Munich to Prague.  This train felt much older than the trains I had taken thus far.  It definitely had an Eastern European twang to it, either from the fact that there was no air conditioning and the windows remained firmly shut as the temperature soared above ninety, or perhaps from the fact that when you ‘flushed’ the toilet (stepped on a pedal on the floor), the bowl opened up into a hole, and you were able to see the contents of the toilet fly directly down onto the tracks as you whizzed by.  But hey I’m a traveler, I’m not complaining, I dig the uncomfortable, the basic, so I sat happily and sweatily in my seat and watched the forest landscape pass me by.

About half way through the trip we stopped in unpronounceable-czech-village-who’s-name-has-too-many-z’s-and-not-enough-vowels, Czech Republic to pick up more passengers.  In a compartment that seated six there was only me and two other men (one from England, one from India).  As people moved passed us in the corridor, the English man quietly made a comment every time a family with a young child would pass, hoping that they wouldn’t come in our compartment so we could avoid excess noise and bother.

Well, we didn’t get a child.  We got the largest, roundest man that I have ever seen in my entire life.  I say this not out of disrespect, but out of true scientific fact, that I literally thought he was going to have heart attack once he sat down, judging by the rate and volume of his breathing.  He also had a certain smell about him that was less than pleasant in the heat.  After a few minutes he looks at me and said something in Czech.  I respond with my well practiced “sorry bud, inept American hear who only speaks English” (just kidding, but that was the general sentiment), to which he happily responds “oh English, okay, you are nice, you are sunshine!”  I gave him my ‘thanks, but you’re finished now’ look (also well practiced this point) and went back about my business.  I catch sight of the Indian man laughing and give him a bit of a glower as well.  But as the round man starts talking to himself in Czech and steadily munching through his hefty lunch, I catch the amused look of the Indian man again and start to laugh as well.  For fear of completely losing it, I close my eyes, turn my music up, bite the inside of my lip, and remind myself that this whole scene is actually a bit sad.  The whole event was funny and depressing and gross and I was very pleased to get some fresh air when we arrived in Prague.

(Eastern European time warp)

I high-tailed it to my hostel and then hit the city.  I very quickly figured out how I felt about Prague.  Here are my sentiments:

1. Prague is probably the most beautiful city I’ve ever been to.

2. Prague is probably my least favorite city I’ve ever been to.

Architecturally, the city was stunning.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  The buildings are tall and magical, pastel colored with incredibly ornate with fairy-tale details.  The city is split by the Vltava river, the two sides connected by majestic bridges, overlooked by a beautiful and unique castle, surrounded by hills of lush green trees.  In the looks department, Prague has got it goin’ on.  But oh my gosh was it touristy, so damn touristy!  I get that tourism is a part of any major city.  Although I like to distinguish between traveler and tourist, I’m sure for many purposes, I would be grouped in the ‘tourist’ category.  The difference between Prague and say, Paris (also touristy), is that Prague was only tourists.  Prague was like Montmartre, the only problem is that there was no Latin Quarter, no Saint-Germain, and no Bastille to be found.  Try as I might (and I did my usual fair share of wandering), I didn’t stumble upon a single place that seemed authentic, where I actually heard more Czech than another language being spoken.

So what did I do?  After attempting to see the sights, nope, someone’s camera blocked my view, attempting to walk across the Charles bridge, just kidding, I was almost pushed into the river by the bulge from your money pouch, and looking for some traditional things to buy, no I do not want a purse that says ‘I heart Prague’ in hot pink bubble letters, I took refuge in a coffee shop.  No, you probably can’t even call it a coffee shop.  Okay everyone, I admit it, I took refuge in Starbucks!  If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em… Over my over-priced, over-sugared, fake Italian named, does-this-even-contain-coffee? beverage, I sulked, I grumbled, and I understood why the Czech Republic drinks more beer per capita than any other country, because walking across the Charles bridge at dawn has lost it’s magic.

(The patterned sidewalks reminded me of Lisbon – go there instead!)

So everyone, I’ve heard that Budapest is the new magical Eastern European city, dirt cheap and strikingly beautiful.  All I can say, is get there before everyone else does, I sure plan to!