An American Rogue in Europe: Chapter Seven

When I wrote the last chapter in this travel log series (a tribute to my man love for Richard) I didn't intend for it to hang out there all on it's own for two weeks. I figured it would be a matter of days at most before the next installment was posted, switching the focus of the story from my boyfriend to my exploits as a world traveller. However, fate intervened.

The wife and I have recently relocated to New Orleans. We're both gainfully employed but until recently have been without a home of our own (thank heavens for the Rogue's gallery of friends and their exceptionally large extra bedrooms). This means that pretty much every waking moment not spent at work or eating has been spent looking for a house. This has, understandably, cut into my blogging time. Sorry about that.

Now Drunken Rogue Publishing brings you the continuing saga of an American Rogue in Europe, here now...

Chapter Seven: On the Road to Prague

I don't think Bob Hope ever made a film by that title, but he should have. The Bavarian forest and the Czech countryside are ripe with comedic possibilities. We left the Army base by taxi travelling to the local train station and met up with our companions for the first leg of our trip. Alex, a security guard working with DOD, and Christine, a military wife like Allie, were going to Prague with us. Christine to run the marathon and Alex just to get in on some sightseeing with us.

The Prague trip was actually an unexpected addendum to our trip. Allie and Christine had been in training for the marathon since Christmas and were expecting to have already run the race before we arrived in Europe. The plan was to scoop Allie up off the pavement, throw her on a plane to Rome and be off. Then Richard's leave was moved up. Our plans were shifted one week ahead. The marathon, now became the send-off for our excursion. And what a starting line!

Prague to me meant spies. My American diet of explosive action films had told me I was as likely to get caught up in international espionage there as anywhere in the world. I didn't see any spies while in Prague, but then again, if I had seen them they wouldn't be very good, would they?

Our arrival in Prague (Praha in Czech) was unheralded and a little depressing. A dingy train station (vaguely reminiscent of the underground scenes in "Demolition Man") awaited us, and immediately put a damper on our excitement. We asked for directions to our hostel (The Czech Inn) turned down the offered taxi rides and trams ("It's only a ten minute walk!") and lugged our sizable possessions towards our temporary home.

It is not a ten minute walk. Those of you familiar with sarcasm (especially my fondness for it) might have noticed the foreshadowing in the previous paragraph. Empty-handed, well-rested and fully hydrated, we might have made it in twenty. Loaded down with gear and tired from a long train ride, it took us nearly an hour.

As much as we had been disappointed by the Prague train station we were immediately pleased by Prague itself. Even carrying our bags and searching for our hostel we couldn't help but be stunned by the beauty of the National Museum.

Situated directly above a train stop, the museum's gigantic facade is capped by a beautiful fountain and faces a statue of King Wencelas (of Christmas carol fame). The combination of the statue, the water and the impressively large museum was a bit breathtaking. For a bunch of traveling Americans who looked on Prague more as a bonus than an integral part of the trip, this museum was an incredibly good omen. It didn't hurt that just across from the fountain I spied the first McDonald's I had seen in Prague.

I haven't really mentioned it yet because I'm assuming, if you're reading this you already know, but I the pickiest of eaters. Whether you think of it as a disorder, a psychosis or just plain stubbornness, I'm weird. My diet consists almost entirely of fast food hamburgers (McDonald's and Burger King being my favorites) served plain, meat and bread only, and french fries. You can see how this might cause issues on our European vacation. Luckily, the American culture (and with it, fast food) has spread to almost every corner of the civilized world. I can travel pretty much anywhere in Christendom without missing a meal!

At the end of our long and tiring hike through Prague we finally located our hostel. The Czech Inn may sound a little corny but as we stepped into the lobby, it became clear that it was supremely hip. Modern, minimalistic furniture, high tech computer terminals and trendy graphic design filled the lobby. We checked in (show the passport so we couldn't skip on the bill) got our keys and headed towards the elevator. While not small, the elevator was absolutely not up to the task of hauling all of us and our our luggage. Ella and I stayed behind to wait on the next trip. By the time we made it to our room, it was clear we had a nice one. Our companions could be heard from the hallway exclaiming excitedly.

Since there were six of us, we had decided to rent a three bedroom apartment situated on the top floor of the hostel. We expected it to be sizable but spartan. While the style was minimalistic the rooms were amazing. A foyer opened into the main bathroom as well as a kitchen and seating area. High ceilings with exposed beams and a huge slanted, roll out window seemed to turn the simple kitchenette into a banquet hall. Two bedrooms opened out of the main room, both with high ceilings and great views, one with a private bathroom. Ella quickly claimed that one. She still swears she didn't realize it had the only private bathroom but either way, she was the fastest to lay dibs. As I was taking in our room, Ella and Richard called me into the third bedroom. Up a staircase from the kitchen, it was significantly larger than the other two bedrooms, but without a window to view the city. It more than made up for the loss of the window however with the reveal of a door leading to a balcony patio shared by the two other top floor apartments. While I had at first worried we might be spending too much on this hostel (71 euros per person for our three nights), by the time I made it to the balcony I was convinced we had made a brilliant discovery.

Everyone settled into their rooms and resituated for the night's meal. The desk clerk had provided us with maps of the city and even marked the two necessities (ATM's and good food). The walk to the ATM, while again uphill (I was beginning to think everything was uphill in Prague) was significantly more pleasant as everyone was unencumbered by luggage and in better moods since food (and beer) was within sight. After taking out enough money for a day or two ("Is a Krohn worth a 20th of a Euro or a 30th of a Euro?") we promptly turned around, since our restaurant, Ublinu, was between the ATM and our hostel. Situated on the corner about two blocks from the Czech Inn, Ublinu (pronounced OOh-ble-noh) was a quaint little family style restaurant with a clean feel and a friendly host. We were seated and served by the same man, who though he spoke little English, took care of us swiftly and gladly. The food was excellent (or so everyone told me, I had french fries. They were quite good.) and the prices very reasonable (especially with the low value of the Krohn) but the real highlight of the evening was the beer.

Having unsuccessfully ordered dark beer on the first round (language barrier) we instead all had a blonde, Pilsner Urquell. It was great, but Richard, Alex and I all were looking forward to a dark beer and were more clear when ordering the second round. Our persistence paid off when we were all brought a large bottle (.5 liter) of Vel Kopopivicky Kozel Cerny. This was, without a doubt, one of the best beers I had ever had. it was dark and heavy but without the thickness of Guinness. Due to the great food prices we were free to spend a little extra on beer and we took full advantage. We talked and laughed sipping our beer, excited to be there together. Prague, and our trip as a whole, was off to a great start.

Coming soon (hopefully) -- Chapter Eight: The Marathon and the Mean Waiters