Last weekend, we ventured eastwards on a chugging train through Germany to the Czech Republic to czech out what everyone likes so much about Prague. We boarded an overnight train, in which Gregory, Katherine, Collin and I were packed tightly into a six-bed sleeper car, the temperature gauge of which was broken. They didn't czech our passports, which I thought was kind of weird. That's only happened to me on an international train once, which doesn't really make sense to me but ah well. The sleeper car was cozy and warm and we watched the first half of a movie on Greg's laptop until we drowsily decided to rain czech the rest so we could settle down for a surprisingly comfortable sleep.
Okay, enough of the Czech puns, I'm done. I swear.
But czech this out. My neighbor Beth taught me how to spell Czechoslovakia when I was ten years old one day in her kitchen. She made chocolate ice cream milkshakes for me and my friend, and we stood there in the middle of her apartment, sunlight shining in. She was on the opposite side of the kitchen table, and she made us guess before she would tell us. I've never forgotten. Too bad it's moot.)
Prague is gorgeous; after crossing the Charles Bridge - the oldest bridge in Prague, mind you, and absolutely pouring over with tourists and kitchy shops - we clambered up a hill in the Mala Strana, or Lesser Town, which was speckled with trees that bloomed with flowers that were little explosions of pink and yellow. At the peak of the hill was an Eiffel Tower replica - no, seriously - as well as the stunningly ornate Prague castle, which is like a city in and of itself, its towering brown facade dotted with windows is only the first of many architectural marvels.
Most of our time in Prague was spent walking. Trams chugged through the city, but we stayed on the sidewalks, passing graffiti'd buildings and cheery storefronts that twinkled with glass and jewelry. The money there is relatively better on our wallets than the Euro is, so we feasted - in a sense - and the food was scrumptious.
Unbeknownst to us, Prague likes Easter. Prague likes Easter so much that they bedeck their city in flowery colored streamers, blue and green and yellow; eggs hang from the branches of trees, and red-roofed tents sprout in town squares, peddling steaming food and desserts and trinkets. A stage was set up directly in front of an old church; one day, an Irish pop band performed - the next, there was an oyster shucking contest. All surrounded by the milling of hundreds of people, the natives babbling in Czech, a language stuffed to the brim with consonants - and tourists, chatting in English, Italian, French, Spanish, German. It was insane.
We spent half a day visiting Terezin, the concentration camp situated about forty minutes outside the city. Terezin, we learned, was not an extermination camp along the lines of Auschwitz, but rather a transit camp, from which people would be sent to camps of the former variety. It was - interesting. I felt, of course, as though I should feel something powerful or moving or harrowing or sad, but the experience for me was a very stoic, emotionless one. It snowed the day we were there, gently and quietly; it wasn't cold, just diamond dust sprinkling over the worn gravel and waving grass.
We concluded the weekend on Easter Sunday night, sitting in our hostel room with a chocolate Easter bunny, some popcorn, and a movie. It was quiet and content. Good job, Prague.
Also, unrelatedly, it should come as no surprise to any of us that I am now bottom of the barrel dipping into my savings living in a box when I get home working twenty eight hours a day can you spare some change sir I just spent a semester in Europe poor. But I'd say this is all pretty worth it, wouldn't you?
This weekend - travel break part deux. We begin with five days in Croatia and Bosnia, and then a quick jaunt to Barcelona where I will perhaps run into The Cheetah Girls (no I won't) before returning back here for two days, and then it's off to Italia.
My goodness.
See you in ten. :)
