159 - Shrooming and Looming (Telc - Prague, Czech Republic)
GOODBYE, BERLIN. HELLO, PRAGUE… for yet another reunion. I met a Polish woman in Svaneti, Georgia who’d left a camera lens behind at the homestay in Mestia. As I knew I’d be in the neighborhood, I promised to swing by and drop it off. I hadn’t been in Prague since 1996 and was apprehensive about returning. My first visit was outstanding. Prague, at the time, felt like an exotic destination. The Cold War was over, and the nascent Czech Republic was emerging from the shadow of the Iron Curtain. Tourism was in its infancy. The mass hordes had yet to descend. It was an exciting time to experience the city. Also, it was dirt cheap. Dollars went a long way.
Prague has two main train stops, one on the outskirts and one more centralized. At the first stop, a woman approached me and my two comrades, inquiring if we had a place to stay. We’d been planning to hit up a hostel, but she made us an offer we couldn’t refuse—an apartment to ourselves for about $7 a night each. That was our HQ for the next four days. We explored the city and enjoyed excellent food and beverage for a pittance.
I was young, not well-traveled, and easily impressed. Prague was just starting to attract globetrotters. It was a highlight of what I like to call my “American College Asshole European Tour.” I remember standing outside a bar, having a conversation with a thirty-something American guy from Ohio with green hair. He looked average and unremarkable (he didn’t have a punky alternative vibe that might explain his head) but, for some reason, his hair was green. I never did ask why.
He started explaining how fearful he was that once he arrived in Prague, he wouldn’t be able to find marijuana. He'd just come from Amsterdam, where the ganja flowed like wine, and thought he might have to jump two night trains (Prague-Amsterdam-Prague) to cozy up to Mary Jane. Two consecutive night trains just so he could get high? God Bless America!
Lucky for him, he found his fix at a reasonable price. I know I felt relieved. That’s the part of the conversation that made him sound intelligent. He then proceeded to give me his critique of a live sex show he attended in Amsterdam. Mr. Ohio Green Hair was extremely disappointed the performance didn’t culminate with the male thespian ejaculating on stage. Instead, he just feigned an orgasm as he swung his crowbar at the audience. Green Hair was borderline angry about this anti-climax (pun intended), like he'd thrown his money away. In other words, he felt screwed. No cumshots. Can you believe it? I mean, where were the cumshots? Um, ‘kay.
This time around, I initially avoided the hostel scene à la Couchsurfing.com. I had only intended to meet up with my liaison, Radka, for a bit of local intel. To my delight, she invited me to her hometown, Telc, where I was to stay with her family. This was a most fortuitous turn and an experience I cherished, as it’s an excellent way to morph from mere tourist to honored guest.
Telc, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is one of the Czech Republic’s most beautiful villages. With a population of around five thousand, it isn’t difficult to distinguish locals from interlopers. Most visitors cascade out of a bus and snap photos furiously before piling back aboard. I should think this rather vexatious after a spell. If I lived there and didn’t have a business related to tourism, I’d probably start picking off tourists from the clock tower with a high-powered rifle. But then again, I’m a homicidal maniac.
I spent the weekend with Radka at her brother's house. I met him, his wife, their adorable son, and Radka's mother and father. On Friday night, I was handed multiple Czech beers and some local plum liquors whose names I can’t recall and couldn’t pronounce. It’s safe to say I was a few sheets into the wind before night’s end.
The next morning, we rose early and went shroomin’, sauntering through the local forest in search of wild mushrooms. Not such an easy task when you have a snare drum pounding in your brain. I couldn’t complain, as Radka's brother puked the night before. We were real troopers. I even found a few myself, though my catch was paltry compared with my hosts.
If searching for mushrooms is fun, cleaning and cooking them is less so. It’s not the semi-tedious nature of the endeavor, but the picking of dirt and minute wildlife from the bounty before slicing and frying. This provides somewhat of a psychological barricade to full enjoyment as you chew, leaving one to wonder if you’ve just swallowed a pine needle, an insect, or a pile of toad shit. Even in the face of a Fear Factor-like effect, they were delicious. The only barrier to gluttony was my obnoxious hangover.
Telc’s central square is so quaint, it almost feels artificial, like a movie set. You’ll find a row of well-preserved houses in the Renaissance and Baroque styles dating back to the 17th century along with Marion's Column (1716-20), a stone tower surrounded by a pedestal of saints crowned with the Virgin Mary atop the world. Most historians agree it was built as a memorial to the victims of the Black Plague and paid for by a bequest in a will left by the woman who lived in the house directly to the column's right. The view from the Tower of the Holy Spirit overlooking the square is worth a look and underscores the town's quaintness. I love using the word quaint.
Courtesy of GQ Gabriel Quintero.
After a fantastic weekend, Radka and I returned to Prague where I spent a few more nights “surfing” in her spare room. She had a life, so couldn’t gallivant across the city with me. Her magnanimity continued. She furnished me with a spare key to come and go as I pleased. I reciprocated by committing an act of gross negligence. One evening, after returning in an alcoholic stupor, I forgot to lock the door. This wouldn’t have been an issue, as the door locked automatically if you actually close it… which I failed to do. When Radka arose, she was none-to-pleased to find the door wide open. She couldn’t figure out why the footsteps in the hallway seemed louder than normal. Instead of kicking me in the face, which was justified, she left a note highlighting my idiocy. I apologized profusely but felt terrible. This added to a somewhat awkward dynamic. I sensed back in Telc she wasn’t opposed to some grab ass, especially during the night of debauchery. The attraction wasn’t mutual, though I may have succumbed if I didn’t think the awkwardness might balloon after smashing. On top of blue balls, I left her vulnerable to home invasion. Not my finest hour.
Having worn out my welcome, I thanked Radka once again and checked in at the Czech Inn. (Pun intended again.) It was a far cry from the $7 per night fourteen years earlier, but it was nice enough. Inflated lodging fees were just the tip of the iceberg. EU membership made Prague a hot destination for everyone, from senior citizens to young rave fanatics. By then, the hordes had descended, and the city of my memory had vanished. Want to love Prague? Stand on St. Charles Bridge at 6:30 a.m. on a clear morning. Want to hate Prague? Stand on St. Charles Bridge on a warm sunny day around noon. It felt like a rock concert where the band’s a no-show, the general theme at all points of interest. After 10:00 a.m. you'll pretty much be dry-humping the person next to you while savoring the view.
The “adventure factor” continued to wane the longer I loitered in Europe. I’d become sluggish and soft, unduly influenced by all that civilization and convenience. I didn’t have to carry around my own shit tickets (i.e. toilet paper), people generally understood what I said, and I was only bewildered 30% of the time. And just like Southeast Asia, Europe was starting to blend together. It was getting close to ripcord time.
The weather was abysmal for most of my stay. Cold and rainy. Given my general lethargy, this wasn’t unwelcome. I watched most of the sixth season of House and the last season of Lost on my computer (Radka hooked me up). Sad, I know. I hadn’t come to Prague to savor Prague, only to visit a friend and return her camera lens. I was curious to see what became of Praha, but knew I was likely to be disappointed. I did manage to get out, gobble some yummy Czech cuisine, continue my cycling streak, snap a few photos, throw down ten gin and tonics while trying not to make an ass out of myself (unsuccessful), and watch my aforementioned Polish friend shop for footwear. I also found Starbucks. Actually, I found three of them. Pure fucking adrenaline.
Cruising Prague on a bike was stimulating in an “obstacle course” sort of way. No well-developed system of bike paths there, as compared to Copenhagen, Bremen, and Berlin. The fun is trying to negotiate the cobblestone streets and herds of wide-eyed tourists without putting a foot on the ground. Give it a shot. It ain't easy.
If I’m honest, my rational brain was compromised as much by my groin as the extended weariness blunting my motivation. Monica (Team Poland) was young and gorgeous. Blond hair, blue eyes, perfect skin, intelligent. I’d first met her in Georgia and thought I sensed a spark of interest. I soon realized she has that effect on most human males. I was not immune. I enjoyed her company. The only potential casualty was time. I had plenty of that. I still sensed interest, but her relationship status was a barrier. I can’t imagine her boyfriend would’ve been thrilled to see the way I stared into those goddamn eyes. But, alas, my balls became as blue as Radka’s. (Karma?) Looking back, I think I had a shot the night before I left. Our Facebook Messenger chats seemed to be heading toward the proverbial fire when I did the unimaginable—I fell asleep. Yes, I did. Crash. Burn. Weep.
Courtesy of Drone Snap.